The Golden Perch Inn

[piosenniel]

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a87/Piosenniel/leapingfish2.gif

May 5 (14 Thrimidge), 1356 SR


It was a gorgeous day in more than one aspect in Seredic’s eyes. Not only was the sun shining, and the grass very green, but the birds were singing merrily in every tree, and the nearby river laughed gaily as it tripped over it’s rocky bottom. There were still other reasons, though. Doubtless, anyone who hadn’t been around the inn long would not have been able to tell why Dick hummed a song he hadn’t always liked as he combed back the unruly curls about his head and took special care that all the buttons on his coat were properly buttoned. It was to be the first day that he unbolted the door of the inn without Gregory Goodbody behind him to oversee everything.

As soon as Dick thought that he looked like the owner and innkeeper that he was, he headed out to the hall. Still humming, he turned to his right and walked towards the Common Room.

“Good morning, Miss Rowan!” he said, stopping his song long enough to greet the young hobbit lass coming out from another room.

“A fine morning it is, sir!” she responded with a broad grin. They passed and Dick continued down the hall. In a moment, he came out into the wide, tall, and empty Common Room, noting with approval the fire already burning in the hearth. His smile became broader as he went across the room to the round front door. With no little amount of pride, he undid the bolt and lock and then opened it wide.

Sunlight streamed in and standing on the front step he could hear the birds calling. He smiled broadly at the morning and then called a greeting to a passing neighbor.

For another moment, he stood on the threshold of the inn, feeling that in the exception of the birth of every one of his children, he had never had a prouder or better day. Then he turned back in and went inside. He walked about the counter and went into the kitchen. Cela and Primrose were already at work.

“Good morning!” he said, above the sound of frying bacon. “What’s for breakfast?”


--- Folwren

[Arry]

Will sat at the kitchen table a large mug of steaming tea clasped in his hands. He was hungry and was looking forward to a large platter of eggs and bacon and toast with jam to fill in the corners, before he started the rest of his day’s work.

He’d been up since before first light, seeing to the ponies and horses that were stabled in the barn. Stalls had been mucked out, fresh hay gotten for the feeders, fresh buckets of water, and new bedding for the floor. Each horse had a nosebag of oats to start the day, as well as the hay in the feeders. All had been given a quick brushing before being turned out into the fenced exercise yard; the ones staying over again would be gone over more thoroughly with comb, brush, and hoof pick before being settled in for the night.

‘Good morning!’ Master Boffin’s voice boomed out merrily above the crackle of the frying bacon. ‘What’s for breakfast?’

Will grinned at him, offering him a mug of tea from the pot at the table. ‘Bacon, of course . . . nice and crispy, Master Boffin.’ Will nodded at Primrose as he spoke. ‘Bacon as only the gifted mistresses of the Perch’s kitchen can make it. Bacon fried so deftly the very thought of it brings a song of praise to my lips.’ He winked good-naturedly at Cook and gave her an ingratiating smile.

‘Oh and let there be eggs, too, please, m’ladies! Mounds of fluffy eggs scrambled gently.’ He nodded to the hay filled basket that sat on the end of the counter. ‘Hens were in a happy mood this morning. Only the little buff was real broody. Tried like the dickens to keep me away from her little clutch.’ He held up his right hand, showing off the little strips of linen he’d tied about two of his fingers where she’d pecked him. ‘I left her one . . . she seemed to settle down with that. Though, I must say she kept a baleful watch on me as I moved about the henhouse.’

‘Would you like me to cut the bread?’ he asked hopefully, pushing his now empty mug away from him. ‘I can get the toasting forks going if you’d like, too, ladies . . .’

[Undómë]

Rowan hurried on her way once she’d said her good-morning to Master Boffin. It was his first day as Innkeeper for the Perch and she had decided she would put her very best foot forward in order to give his patrons a very good impression of his inn.

Not that Master Goodbody had been a sluggard as the Innkeeper. Nay, he was always quite on top of things, and a fair employer, too. And wasn’t his daughter, Lily, a sweet woman! But, well . . . truth be told Rowan felt more comfortable around Master Boffin than she did the older fellow. And he had such a merry face, Master Boffin did. Who couldn’t help but like him?!

She went to the linen cupboard and got out a stack of towels to put in her basket, along with a number of neatly folded face cloths. Rowan relished the smell as she open the latticed doors. Lavender! A fresh, clean fragrance from the flowers sprinkled between the folded sheets and blankets. She recalled helping to harvest the spikes of violet-blue flowers last summer and tying them in bunches to dry from the barn rafters. They still held their pleasing subtle scent. She reached under a folded sheet for one of the smaller stalks and wove it securely into the lacings of her bodice.

Picking up her basket she went on down the hall, knocking at each of the occupied rooms. ‘Your towel, sir. A fresh towel, ma’am. Good morning! Good morning! Did the lad bring you warm water to wash up? Good, good! See you at breakfast, then.’ She gave as pleasant a smile as she could to each of the roomers without being too overwhelmingly cheerful. Some of them, she knew from previous days’ experience with them were simply not early morning risers.

Once done, she put away her basket and headed toward the kitchen. Her early morning duties were done. Soon the serving of breakfast would begin in the common room. Her tummy rumbled, protesting its empty state; the enticing aroma of bacon frying made her mouth water.

Rowan picked up her pace, hoping to get a few mouthfuls of breakfast into herself before the hungry patrons demanded their platters and mugs and pots of tea and such . . .

[Firefoot]

Cela let Will answer the question as she lightly added salt to the first batch of eggs. Sometimes she wondered if he didn’t know as much about what was going on in the kitchen as she did.

“Would you like me to cut the bread?” Will now asked. “I can get the toasting forks going if you’d like, too, ladies . . .”

“No need, no need,” said Cela without looking up. “It’s biscuits and jam this morning – Primrose how are those coming?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “Good thing summer’s coming up quickly, not that you’d know it by the chill in the air. The stock of jam is starting to run low, and there’s nothing like a fresh pie. Fruit that’s preserved and canned or dried just doesn’t have the same taste to it as fresh fruit.”

“I’m sure the jam won’t run out,” said Dick with a smile.

“’Course it won’t. What kind of cook would I be if I let the jam run out?” Cela cast a critical eye at the eggs. “But that’s neither here nor there.” She selected a skinny jar containing an unlabelled chopped herb and sprinkled it lightly over the top of the eggs. “Excellent. And don’t neither of you ask what’s on them, either, because you know I won’t tell you.” She waved a wooden spoon in their general direction. “You’re right cheery this morning,” she commented to Dick, trying to remember if the day had some special significance as she checked on the bacon. “Ah, of course… the inn’s officially yours today, isn’t it?” She said, nodding to herself, though whether about her statement or the bacon was indeterminate. “Why don’t we get you two a bite to eat… looks about done…”

[Folwren]

Dick joined Will at the breakfast table and tucked a napkin into his collar. “Aye, today’s my first day, Cela,” he said. He grinned up at her as she placed a plate full of food before him. “I hope I’m ready for it.”

“Of course you are,” Cela replied confidently. She placed another full plate before Will. “Master Goodbody wouldn’t have let you have it if you weren’t ready for it.”

Dick shrugged slightly before setting into the bacon and eggs. “One would think so,” he said, after giving a moment to chew and swallow. “I have all the hopes of succeeding.” His stomach gave a slight flutter, though he couldn’t exactly say why. He attributed it to the empty state his stomach was in and continued to eat without saying anything further.

He and Will were half way through with their first serving of breakfast when Rowan came tripping into the kitchen, a smile on her face, and a healthy glow in her cheek. Dick looked up as she gave a bright and cheery good morning to everybody.

“How are all the guests this morning?” Dick asked. “Are any of them up yet?” Rowan flashed him a quick smile as she accepted a plate from Cela and turned to join the two hobbits at the table before answering.

[Envinyatar]

Jack eyed the sign as it swung in the morning breeze. ‘Golden Perch, then is it?’ he murmured to himself, shifting his gaze here and there about the Inn yard for any ‘opportunities’. He leaned on his walking stick, footsore from the long miles he’d traveled in the past few days. Bit of a misunderstanding in some no-name little watering hole down south a ways, where the Brandywine turned east from the Bounds.

Dumb-as-dirt farmer gave him the what-for for ‘borrowing’ a few eggs and loaf of bread cooling on the windowsill of the farmhouse. Brandished his nasty pitchfork at him, then set the dogs after him. Jack grinned as he thought about the lumps he’d laid on those hounds heads when they’d caught up to him.

His belly rumbled, empty as the purse that hung at his belt. No . . . wait a moment there, Jack-boy!. He reached into an inner pocket of the greasy leather vest he’d appropriated from some fool drunk in Bree a number of months ago and found two small coins he’d kept for dire need. And surely this was dire need . . . Be just enough, he hoped, for a pint of ale and the right to sit at ease in the Perch, looking the place over.

Jack stood in the shadows of the entryway letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light within. He slid right, to counter that marked where the drinks were to be got. He tapped a coin on the wooden surface of the bar and called out in a loud voice.

‘How bout it? Can a man get a pint here?’

His gaze slid around the room, noting where things were placed and who occupied tables. Oh, aye! There’s some as look promising . . . yes, indeed!

[Undómë]

Rowan tucked into her eggs and bacon; washing her rather large forkfuls down with gulps of sweet, hot tea. ‘Sorry!’ she mumbled round a mouthful of biscuit with gooseberry jam on it. She swallowed another gulp of tea and wiped the crumbs from her mouth.

‘Don’t mean to be such a little piggy, but the guests are up, the lot of them. And I’m sure they’ll soon be washed and dressed and out into the common room expecting food soon . . . very soon! I’m just trying to take the edge of my own hunger before I have to put on a smile and take out the platters Cook and Mistress Primrose are cooking up.’ She turned a little red, rethinking her choice of words. ‘Not that I mind smiling and serving the food. Oh no, not at all! Truth be told I rather like seeing their faces light up at the first whiff and site of the Perch’s tasty fare. It’s just that it rather gets in the way of your being friendly when your belly is making loud protests!’

The sound of some loud voice calling from the common room penetrated the noise and talk of the kitchen. ‘Shall I go see to that?’ she asked, her eyes lingering longingly on the rest of her meal.

[Folwren]

Dick couldn’t help but smile at Rowan’s explanation of her eager attack at breakfast. He didn’t mind, nor did her explanations offend him. A reassuring remark nearly made its way out of his mouth when a loud voice called from the common room.

‘How bout it? Can a man get a pint in here?’

No hobbit voice, to be sure. Dick saw a disappointed look sweep over Rowan’s face and she looked down at her scarcely begun breakfast. ‘Shall I go see to that?’ she asked quietly.

‘No,’ he said, rising. ‘No, that’s fine. You finish breakfast – you might not have much chance later on today. I’ll see to it. Cela, save my place.’ He addressed the Cook as he pushed back his chair and stood up. Clearing his throat slightly and tugging on his vest to make absolutely sure it was on straight, he exited the kitchen and went out to meet the guest.

Good blazes, here was a rough character! Dick kept his surprise out of his face as he stepped up to the counter. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ he asked calmly. ‘You’re seeking a pint? Perhaps breakfast as well?’ Ale was all very well and good in its place, and his inn was an exceptional place to purchase it, but it was still considerably early in the morning. Besides, this man looked like he needed more of Celandine Brandybuck’s eggs and bacon with secret ingredients put into them than a mug of ale.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan watched from the shadows of a small coppice of beech trees. The Inn and the road were easily seen from where he stood. And he straightened up from his leaning against one of slender trunks, his gaze riveted on a none too wholesome character making his way along the edge of the road that ran from Willowbottom to Stock and beyond to the Great Road. Though, from the looks of the fellow as he dodged off the road as someone approached and walked in the shadows of the low, scrubby hedgerow, he doubted he was one to make his way down the Main Road. Too easy to be seen.

And there he was, now, a ruffian sort, looking at the inn’s sign. Though he could not see it clearly, Hithadan was sure it was a calculating appraisal the fellow was making.

He let the man pass through the door and waited a little while to follow. In the far left corner of the common room Hithadan slid into a chair, his back to the wall, eyes on the happenings before him.

[Celuien]

"It's biscuits and jam this morning – Primrose how are those coming?" Cela continued speaking, leaving no pause for the assistant cook's reply.

Primrose knew that if Cela needed an answer, she would stop and wait for a response. And so she took the question as a reminder to keep at work and, without attempting to fit a few words on the state of the biscuits between the phrases of Cela's conversation, industriously tended the fire under her pan of biscuits. The scent of sizzling bacon mingled with the aroma of her rapidly browning biscuits, and Primrose suddenly realized that she was quite hungry. She poked at the fire and flames leapt up, reddening her cheeks with their heat. Primrose carefully tucked a few stray curls under her scarf. It wouldn't do for her hair to take flame along with the firewood.

Drawing close to the fire again, Primrose peeked at her biscuits and poked them. The small dimples she made vanished as she withdrew the pressure of her finger. The biscuits were done. She deftly withdrew them from their pan and arranged them on a platter with butter, jam, and honey.

Balancing the platter on one hand, Primrose swept over to the table and deposited her biscuits, hot and golden, in front of the breakfasters. "Biscuits are done," she said brightly. "Is there anything else you need?"

[Envinyatar]

The Innkeeper . . . yes it must be him . . . The Halfling stood behind the counter as if he owned it. Now Jack was well enough aware the fellow was taking his measure, despite the fact his face showed no distaste, or favor for that matter. He tugged at the front of his tunic, trying to be a bit more presentable. One bony finger pushed his coin across the smooth wood toward the Innkeeper, his ragged, dirty fingernail tapping plaintively on it.

‘Well, sir,’ he began. ‘The name’s Jack . . . Jack Greymoss. And I have to tell you I’ve been on the road for a fair piece.’ He picked up the coin and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Now this little bit of metal’s all I have. I’d say yes to something to break my fast, but I think I’ll have to choose the ale.’

He pushed the coin toward the Innkeeper once again. ‘Finest in the Eastfarthing, or so I’ve heard . . .’

[Arry]

‘Biscuits are done,’ Primrose said brightly. ‘Is there anything else you need?’

It was a question that most likely required no answer, Will knew. It was expected that each of them, save the Innkeeper, would fetch any extra things needed. Still, he raised an innocent enough face to Primrose and heaved a long sigh.

‘A wife, if you please, dear Primrose . . . yes, that would be most helpful . . . a wife . . . or at least a promising lass . . .’

He looked round at the faces of those with him in the kitchen. Then another sigh as he dipped into one of the big pockets in his vest. With a flourish he waved a piece of folded parchment in the air.

‘Yes, there’s been a letter from Crickhollow.’ He unfolded the paper and passed it round the table. ‘My dear mum,’ he went on. ‘Reinforced by Buttercup and Opal, my oldest brothers’ wives.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Worse yet, they’re coming in a month’s time for a “visit”. And worser . . . worsest, eh? . . . they’ll want to meet the lasses belonging to the names I’ve mentioned in my letters back to them.’

He laughed . . . a rather condemned man’s laugh. ‘Now where do you think I’m going to dig up Allyssum, Ginger, Iris, and lovely Sage?’

[Undómë]

Rowan nearly choked on her mouthful of tea at the pleading tone in Will’s voice. She managed a subdued sort of snort as the liquid threatened to go up her nose; followed by a small bout of coughing. Red cheeked she gathered her wits about her as best she could and laughed out loud at the pitiful picture Will presented.

‘Good gracious!’ she chuckled, wiping her mouth with her napkin. ‘So that’s why you always sit under the ash tree when you write your letters and gaze so thoughtfully toward the gardens and flower beds.’ Her mouth curved into an impish grin as she shook her head. ‘Alyssum, Ginger, Ivy, and Sage, indeed!’ She arched her brows at the stabler. ‘And is there a Rose, a Marjoram, and even perhaps a Lavendar among your eligible lasses?’

[Celuien]

"Now where do you think I’m going to dig up Allyssum, Ginger, Iris, and lovely Sage?"

Primrose laughed merrily, both amused at Will's predicament and relieved that his request for a wife segued into his explanation of the letter. It would have been most awkward had Will intended a flirtation with her.

Rowan teased Will, and Primrose decided to join the game. He had briefly embarrassed her by his plea, though her blush couldn't be seen over her fire-reddened cheeks. A little teasing would be enough revenge. "Yes, Rowan. I'll wager there's more than meets the eye about our Will here. I'll warrant he'll not have a bit of trouble to find a lass or two - or seven - to fit all the names." She grinned at the maid, watching Will's face out of the corner of her eye. Was he blushing?

[Firefoot]

Time to rescue Will, decided Cela. “Well, now, m’dear boy, I daresay you have gotten yourself into a bit of a predicament,” she commented over the laughter of Primrose and Rowan. “But nothing that can’t be fixed…” She smiled to herself. Will’s situation had put her in mind of her own courting days – such merry days they had been! And Cela had a few tricks up her sleeve. Nevertheless, she continued flipping bacon until Will probed her with a, “How so?”

“Not that you’d be obliged to follow my plan,” said Cela, stretching out the suspense as long as possible. “You’ll have to see how you like it. But the first of your lasses is quite easily gotten rid of. Pick one and say that she’s getting courted by another lad, and they’re likely to be married within the year. Or already married. A second is not terribly hard, either. Say she’s off visiting kin in, oh, Hobbiton. Or Tuckborough. That one probably ought to be your ‘lovely Sage.’” She pretended to be thinking, enjoying the hopefulness of Will’s look and the curiosity of the lasses.

“And what about the other two lasses?” asked Rowan finally.

“Well, haven’t you figured it out yet?” asked Cela, her eyes twinkling as her gaze passed from Rowan to Primrose and back. “I see two young lasses quite right to play the parts of young master Will’s Alyssum and Iris…”

[Durelin]

Griffo had just rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and said good morning to his sheep when he decided to make his way to the Golden Perch Inn for some kind of breakfast. And he figured he'd stay for second breakfast, and perhaps elevenses, and maybe... Who am I kiddin'? I've got nowhere better to go. And he hadn't for six years now. Melilot had kept him busy at home and elsewhere, and now that she was gone, he tried to make himself busy as best he could. And that didn't work very well. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he didn't really try.

Swinging open the door to the Golden Perch, Griffo adjusted his vest, suddenly realizing he was not sure when the last time he had washed it was. He always came up with and excuse for not doing so, reminding himself that he normally only wore his shirt. His two vests were the only nice clothes he owned anymore. Melilot had always made nice things for him. And he had always managed to ruin them. She always laughed when he brought her a vest that had split down the back, though, or anything of the like. She always joked about how it seemed as if she had eight children to take care of, not just seven. Just... Griffo's lips twisted into a soft smile. There were some very fond memories of the two trying to take care of seven children.

The hobbit stepped into the common room, the smile on his face, to see that there were two men already inside, one seated in a corner, the other up at the bar. It was a little strange. Normally Griffo was the first patron to arrive that was not in a room there when he went for a bit of breakfast. He could hear noise coming from the kitchen, and knew that the food he desired was soon to be prepared, if Cela and Primrose hadn't already started on it.

The inn workers were eating, using their brief time in the morning to gather up their strength for a long days work ahead. Griffo always let them be, and waited to be given a mug and a bit of toast whenever anyone had a moment to give it to him. He had all day. And so he simply took a seat at a small table close to the bar after he grabbed the chess board from by the fireplace. Eyeing the two men with interest, he set up the board for a game.

[Tevildo]

Tollman had been sitting by himself in the corner, trying to come up with an excuse so that he could leave behind his duties at the Inn and slip down to the river to throw in a hook and line or perhaps even take out his little boat. So far he had not had any luck. The Innkeeper was a good hobbit, but no fool when it came to malingering. On more than one occasion, Master Boffin had spoken to him about the need to be more attentive to his work.

With a sigh, the young hobbit pushed his mug to the side and trudged up to the front to retrieve another plate of biscuits. The one thing about working in the Inn is that you were definitely well fed. At least there was that consolation, even when he couldn't think of a good excuse to go down and fish. Moreover, today was expected to be especially busy. There were a number of markets in nearby towns, and they'd been warned that the Inn traffic would likely be heavy with many coming into the area with plans to show their wares.

Striding up to the counter, Tolman noticed a newcomer to the Inn, one of the Big Folk who wore a travel stained tunic and breeches. Tollers was ever an affable young lad and, once he heard that the poor fellow would be going without a proper breakfast for lack of money, he could not help but feel some sympathy. The fact that the man's clothing was dirty and askew did not bother Tollman in the slightest. His own father had often berated his young hobbit son that his shirt and breeches were full of stains Plus, this poor stranger was so large that the young hobbit guessed it must be particularly painful for him if his stomach was empty. In Toller's eyes, a large empty stomach could only equate to a very large belly ache.

Leaning over to the stranger, the hobbit tugged insistently at the top of his breeches. "Once you finish your dealings with Master Boffin, you are welcome to come join me at the table. I've a large plate of biscuits and, if you can give me some news of the outside world, you're welcome to share my food."

With that, the young hobbit slid behind the counter and went into the kitchen, purloining a heaping plate of biscuits along with a pot of honey and another of jam. Seeing that no one seemed to have his eye on him, Tollman slid his hand deep into one of the pans and came up with two handsome slabs of ham, which he placed on top of his pile of biscuits. If he couldn't go fishing, at least he could take an extended first breakfast!

[Arry]

Well now this was getting a bit too close for comfort! Cook had certainly offered some good suggestions for several of his problems . . . but Primrose and Rowan? He could feel his neck getting rather warm beneath the collar of his tunic and he knew if he didn’t leave soon the tips of his ears would be glowing like coals.

Will broke open several biscuits and shoveled the rest of his eggs onto them along with some crispy bacon he’d broke into bits. He wrapped the little sandwiches up in his napkin, tying it off with a knot. And all the while saying how he needed to be getting back to the stable . . . one of the horses had a stone bruise needed seeing to and another he’d wrapped with a cool compress to take down the swelling in one of the leg joints. And the roof . . . he’d discovered a few rotten shingles and he need to be repairing that section . . . take all day he thought . . .

He said his thanks to Cook, nodding to her, as he hurried out the kitchen door, mug of tea in one hand, the packet of biscuits in the other. Primrose and Rowan he studiously avoided, his attention being taken up in the study of the wood grain on kitchen floor as he made his way to the exit.

As the door swung shut behind him he was certain he heard some laughter and giggling escaping after him. Now his ears were indeed burning!

Land’s sake! Rowan and Primrose to play the part of his “possibles” for mum? Primrose! Rowan! Good gravy! They were Perch workers, just like him . . . he didn’t even think of them as, well . . . girls!

He fled to the safety of the barn and the ponies . . .

[Undómë]

Rowan had laughed at Will’s predicament and found Cook’s solution amusing, too. Especially since it had caused the poor fellow to light up like a glowbug. Luckily her own mother had her younger sister and brother to see to and keep a firm hand on. And so, had left Rowan to run her own life. At least for now. In three years she would come of age, just as Will would be doing next year. And she was sure her mother’s thoughts would then be bent on her. The lady loved babies! There was no getting round that fact. And in lieu of having any more of her own, she was quite happy to settle for grandbabies.

Well, why worry about such things when they haven’t come knocking at your door yet, Rowan! she told herself

She finished the rest of her eggs, then chewed thoughtfully on the last strip of bacon. A final swallow of tea and she was up, scraping her plate into the bucket before piling it in the sink with some of the other dishes. She thought she could hear the sound of the door to the rooms’ hallway opening and closing as the guests made their way into the common room for breakfast.

‘Best load up some platters of bacon and eggs, Prim,’ she called to Primrose, as she got down one of the big serving trays. She took several baskets of hot biscuits, too. Saying she would be back shortly for the teapots. Plates, cups, and utensils and pots of honey, jam, and butter had already gone out to the tables earlier that morning.

She was thinking about Cook’s suggestion; wondering if it were even possible to pull off such a thing. It might be quite fun actually, she thought. Though, she considered, too, how angry his mother might be if she found out the truth. And sad, too, that her son would play such a prank on her.

Hmmm . . . I guess I could do it if Will’s alright with it. She was a bit unclear that he actually approved of Cook’s plan. Perhaps Cook would talk more with him and get it all settled. It was a subject she thought she ought not to approach with him on her own. It felt a little too slippy-slidey.

She hoisted the serving tray up on her shoulder supporting it with her hand beneath it. It was a source of pride to her that she’d become quite the expert at balancing such loads these last two years.

Rowan nodded to Primrose as she turned to go out to the common room. On an impulse, she gave the woman and impish grin and gave her a challenging look.

‘Fight you for him! Tooth and nail!’ She winked at her friend. ‘And may the best flower from the garden win!' Rowan laughed merrily as she sailed out into crowd of hungry guests.

Might as well start practicing! I’m sure Cook’ll convince him how good her plan is.

[Envinyatar]

Hithadan waited patiently until the server passed nearer to him. He smiled a little watching her work her way about the room. All smiles and deft hands as she placed the platters of food before the hungry guests.

He glanced toward the man at the counter. One of the other servers from the inn had spoken briefly with him. Tolman . . . the encounter seemed innocent enough. Still he would see what business the lad had with the raggedy man.

‘Little mistress!’ he called gently as Rowan drew near. He raised his hand to her as she turned toward him. ‘Something to break my fast and a mug of strong tea, if you please.’

[Undómë]

'Eggs it is, today, Master Hithadan. And bacon. though I think Cook could be persuaded to cook a bit of ham for you. And Primrose's lovely biscuits with the last of summer's jam.' She put a generous plate of food before him.

Rowan furrowed her brow as she gave him a mug. 'Now you're sure it's tea today and not some ale or wine?' She waited for him to consider the offer. Well, then tea it will be,' she grinned. She made her way back to the kitchen for a pot of steaming tea.

'And here's a pot of honey to sweeten it,' she said, putting the pot on his table. 'From Granny Greenhill's bees. Clover and apple tree flowers she said. Very tasty. I can vouch for it!'

Her serving tray was empty and she rested it on the ground, leaning it in against her leg. 'And what brings you to Stock these days,' she asked, topping off his mug with a bit more tea. 'Haven't seen you in quite a while. What brings you round this time, if you don't mind my asking?'

It was a question she always asked of him, hoping that one day he might actually satisfy her curiosity.

[Lilly]

Marigold’s brown ears twitched at the words from her owner. Her nose twitched, too, smelling the enticing scent of fresh hay and oats borne on the early morning breezes. Behind her, she could hear the goats making excited little noises. Marigold snorted. They wanted her to hurry up, get the cart closer to the source of the good smells. Well, why don’t they just come up and pull this thing along for a while she humphed to herself. The sturdy little pony put her strength into the pulling of the cart and hurried the family and the hanger-on goats along at a faster clip.

‘Whoa up there, Mari!’ called Madoc, bringing his cart to a halt in front of the stable. He stepped down, helping Lila and the children from the cart. Arrangements were made with the stableman for the care of Marigold and the two nannies to the satisfaction of Madoc. Then he bid the man good day and took his family into the inn.

‘Just find us . . .’ Madoc began, holding the door open as his wife and brood passed through.

‘. . . a good table. Yes, my dear! And you see to something hot to drink if you will.’ Lila smiled at him, nodding as he entered. She saw his brow raise in question. ‘Yes, get yourself an ale. But tea, please, for me, and for the little ones.’

Young Taffy rolled his eyes at “the little ones” from his mother. He dearly loved his little sister Seren, but geeze! He was after all eleven and she just five. She really was the ‘little one’.

He’d had enough of sitting, in the cart. So he stood for a while by the chair his mother had appointed him. His eyes roamed around the room taking it all in. There were two of the Big Folk in the common room. Both dressed a little raggedy by his determination. He wondered if either lived out in the wild. Big Folk were not all that common where he lived, and there were many stories he and his mates told each other of the great, tall men who lived rough and lived dangerously. He shivered a little, his eyes darting away from the both of them.

Hmmmm! Over there by the bar sat a very old gaffer. And he seemed to be playing with some little carved figures on a board on the tabletop. Taffy played checkers with his own Granpa at home and enjoyed it very much. He sidled up quietly by the gaffer to see what sort of game he was playing. It looked like a checkerboard from what he could see.

‘Is that a new kind of checkers, sir?’ he asked without thinking. He came to the edge of the table. ‘Oh, look! You’ve put your players on the red and the black squares! Is this how they play it in Stock?’

[Envinyatar]

‘Why the pleasure of seeing your dimpled cheeks when you smile, Mistress Rowan! That's what always brings me round to the Perch!’ Hithadan grinned back at her as he piled some jam on the biscuit in his hand. He took a bite from the light, flaky biscuit and held it up as if in adulation, nodding his head to her.

‘Be sure to give Mistress Brandybuck my compliments! I believe she . . . or was it Mistress Primrose, this time? . . . anyway, one of them has outdone themselves . . . again! Why even the waybread of the Fair Folk could not outshine this, surely.’

He picked up his fork and tucked into his eggs as if he hadn't had a good meal in days or weeks . . .

[Folwren]

Dick did not know quite what to say to the stranger as he extended the coin towards him again. Hunger could easily be seen from Jack's face, but he would rather go with the ale. Why not throw in some food with that? The poor chap could offer no more than he had. And yet what an awkward business! Dick knew how the Big People disliked pity and charity, though he would hardly call it that, and many a hobbit wouldn’t complain to being treated to breakfast. But then He noticed Tollman approaching the customer and before he had formed a proper reply, the young hobbit took him out of his predicament, and attracted the man’s attention.

"Once you finish your dealings with Master Boffin," he said, "you are welcome to come join me at the table. I've a large plate of biscuits and, if you can give me some news of the outside world, you're welcome to share my food."

A sudden smile swept over Dick's face. That's the spirit. He'd thank Tollers later and make sure he got some sort of second breakfast for that. He grinned up at Jack and his head bobbed up and down as he took the coin.

"Aye, the lad'll look after you. I'll get the ale right away, and then you go on and sit with him. He'll get you your breakfast." Dick gave Jack no time to protest (if he wanted to) before he turned and took one of the mugs to draw the ale. He winked at Tollers as he passed, a heaping plateful of food in his hand. With an afterthought, he half turned, the brimming mug of ale in his left hand and snatched at Tollers just before he stepped out of reach. He bent towards him and close to his ear whispered –

“You let him eat whatever he needs, now. Don’t hesitate to go back for seconds. If Cela puts up a fight, tell her they’re my orders. Take this." And he put the mug in the young hobbit's hand and sent him off.

[Envinyatar]

Jack ventured a smile at the Halfling as he sat down at the table. It was not an expression he practiced often, and so it may have appeared rather frightening . . . a rictus of the mouth, a gaping sort of grin, that may well have been seen as a grimace from another angle. It was a fleeting attempt which soon disappeared behind the rim of his ale mug.

‘Well, I do thank you for that!’ he said in a grateful sounding voice. ‘I swear I have had nothing to drink but what brackish water I could find along my way.’ He took another great gulp and set down the mug with a satisfied thump on the wooden table top.

The ale rumbled about in his empty belly . . . loud grumblings, in which his innards protested the lack of sustenance. ‘Guess I am a bit hungry at that! My old belly’s knocking against my backbone!’ he remarked, reaching for one of the biscuits on the platter. He piled the halves of it with jam and popped them in his mouth, one after the other. Another biscuit found its way into his hand and this one he clapped about a nice fat piece of ham.

Halfway through this makeshift sandwich he eyed his Hobbit companion. ‘Don’t let me eat your whole plateful. Dig in!’ He chewed thoughtfully on the rest of the ham biscuit. ‘Good food, here at the Perch. You always get fed like this?’ He pushed the plate a little closer to his companion.

‘Name’s Jack, by the way. Jack Greymoss. Used to live in Breeland, over across the river and such. Been traveling lately, though.’ He thought he’d best leave out the details so as not to scare his table mate off. ‘Working odd jobs and such for a place to sleep and hot meal.’

‘Wotcher name? I don’t think I caught it.’

[Celuien]

Rowan sailed out into the common room, leaving Primrose in the kitchen to laugh at the idea of fighting tooth and nail over the ostler. Poor Will. It seemed that Rowan was going to enjoy playing the part if she got the chance.

Primrose, on the other hand, was a little bit uncomfortable. Will's plea (a joke, she was sure), made her blush. Why? She was used to banter about weddings. It was almost a tradition among her sisters, cousins and friends. She felt her ears burn again with the sudden realization that Will hit a little too close to home with his teasing - Primrose wouldn't have minded being mentioned as an eligible lass in one of his letters.

Now you stop that, Miss Primrose Smallburrow, she chided herself. You're being naught but a silly goose. She hoped that Cela wasn't serious about her plan. If so, it would be terribly uncomfortable for her to play her role. Primrose frowned. Then again, maybe there was no better cure for her silliness than to play at being one of Will's prospects. It would show her just how ridiculous she was.

Looking a summer thunderstorm, Primrose began mixing another batch of biscuit dough. As she cracked an egg into a little mound of flour, she asked Cela, "Did you really mean it? About Will, I mean." She kept her face down, studying the flour in the bowl, determined to keep her composure. Fold and knead, knead and fold. If she concentrated on the biscuits, maybe Cook wouldn't notice her discomfiture.

[Firefoot]

“Sure, I really meant it,” answered Cela, completely unaware of Primrose’s discomfort. “I’m rather looking forward to it, myself. It’s just the sort of thing I would have done when I was about your age. I only wish I might be a bit younger so as to take part…” She laughed. “But I’ll have to content myself with watching. It’s time for my old bones to step back for you young ones to enjoy yourselves.” As she spoke, she bustled about the kitchen, checking on another batch of nearly-done biscuits and heaping another couple plates with bacon and eggs.

“Of course,” she added, “it’s really up to Will whether he goes through with it; I seem to have quite embarrassed the poor lad. I daresay he can be a bit too serious at times. He’ll think it over, and I’m sure he’ll come around. There’s really not much else he can do. And after all, I’m not actually asking him to court you lasses. It’s just a bit of play-acting.” Cela suddenly realized just how quiet Primrose had been and how very focused she was on kneading that dough. Perhaps Will wasn’t the only one not quite comfortable with her plan. “It really isn’t so serious, dear,” said Cela. “It will only be for a few days, I’m sure, and it will only have to be enough to put on an act for Will’s mum and sisters-in-law. Nothing to get worried about. Look at Rowan, there, treating it all as a great game. That’s all it is.”

But Primrose had continued to knead her dough, even more fiercely if that were possible. “Or perhaps it’s just the opposite problem?” suggested Cela blithely. “You don’t want it to be just a bit of play-acting? You don’t need to be shy, lass. Speak up if you don’t like it. Nothing you say here will reach Will’s ears from my mouth.”

[Celuien]

Primrose gave the dough a particularly hard push, flattening it into the counter. Cela had come very near to the truth. She was caught now. If she tried to lie, Cela, knowing her well for these past several years, would surely know that she wasn't being truthful. But she would have to speak carefully. Though cornered, there was no need for her to embarrass herself any more than necessary.

Primrose rubbed her hands on her apron. "Opposite problem?" Careful, careful. "Yes and no. I don't know." Stay focused. Calm down. She balled up the bits of dough still clinging to her fingers. It flaked. A bit too much flour in the batter, perhaps. "I'd never thought any such thing, not in all the years I've been here, and Will working right outside. But this morning...This morning when he teased about finding a wife...I don't know!" Primrose stared pleadingly at Cela. "It upset me a bit, though not in an unpleasant way, if you take my meaning, and just now, I found myself thinking…I found myself thinking that it would be nice to be someone to write home about." There. It was done.

She looked at the ground. Not hearing a reply, and not daring to look at Cela's face again, Primrose went on in a low voice, "But if Will wants to go along with your plan, I'll play too. Nothing better to cure my silliness than some playacting, I think."

[Durelin]

Griffo had remained intent on setting up his chess pieces while a small figure had inched its way beside him, and only turned when the figure decided to speak. He found himself looking at a young hobbit lad with curly brown hair. An inquisitive young lad if I ever saw one…or heard. Seems sharp enough., the old hobbit thought, sizing the boy up a bit. Looking intently at the boy, he kept his face very stern for a moment, though not harsh.

"Checkers?" he questioned sternly, "Checkers is a game for children and old men who've lost most of their wits. You look like a sharp young man, so perhaps its time you learned about this game, for it is altogether different from checkers." He paused for a second or two, turning back to the playing board before him. When the boy didn't move, he gestured with a wave of his hand, beckoning to him. "Come around and have a good look."

Once the boy was standing at the edge of the table, now more in front of Griffo, the old gaffer spoke again. "This is a chess board. And unlike simple checkers, each kind of piece has its very own purpose. And though I can't really tell you if that's just how we play it in Stock or not, I have only played it one way. And the same goes for checkers. Where you from, boy, if not Stock?"

[Folwren]

Dick turned to go back into the kitchen to finish his breakfast and a last word with the cook. He entered the room as Primrose was still speaking. “Nothing better to cure my silliness than a little play acting,” she said.

Dick took his seat at the table and picked up his fork again. He grinned broadly as the two hobbit ladies looked over at him, noticing his entrance for the first time. “Play-acting what? Is there going to be a prank or something done? Did I hear Will mentioned as I was coming in?”

He looked inquisitively at the two cooks, his eyes shining brightly with the expectation of fun. In the short pause that followed wherein they tried to decide what to say, Dick began to eat again.

“Bring me a couple biscuits, Miss Brandybuck,” he said. “And some of the butter and honey. Then tell me what’s going on while I eat.”

[Firefoot]

“Of course, Master Dick,” answered Cela. If she could have, she would have turned him around right there and marched him out of the kitchen for a few more moments while she finished her chat with Primrose. Now that her thoughts had caught up with her tongue, she wondered if she hadn’t pushed Primrose too far and made her more uncomfortable still. As it was, she contented herself with a whispered, “Not silliness at all, dear,” as she passed Primrose to fetch Dick a plate of biscuits.

“Our Will seems to have gotten himself in a spot of trouble,” she explained as she heaped his plate with biscuits, adding a pat of butter and a small tin of honey on the side. “You see, he has been writing to his mother about the four lovely lasses that he has been courting, so to speak. He's just received a letter saying his mother and sisters-in-law are coming to visit sometime soon, and of course they want to meet these marriage prospects of Will’s…” She chuckled. A tale like this only grew better in the telling. “He made his lasses up.”

Cela paused for Dick to register this before outlining the rest of her plan. “…So provided that Will wraps his head around the idea, he has no farther to look for a couple of lasses than right here in this inn. Rowan and Primrose, at least, seem quite delighted over the idea.” When Dick wasn’t looking, Cela shot Primrose a quick wink and a smile. We cooks, we keep our secrets…

[Tevildo]

When Tollers saw how eagerly his guest was going through the platter of food, he made sure to slip off a biscuit or two and stuff them into his back pocket. No sense going hungry, he reasoned, especially when this stranger had such a hearty appetite. Still, he was not overly worried. The day was proceeding better than expected. The Innkeeper had given him the nod so that he could go back into the kitchen and load up again if that's what was needed.

All in all, Tollers was beginning to warm up to this stranger, and he responded in a cordial tone. "So glad to meet you, Jack Greymoss. My name's Tollman Burrows, but everybody calls me Tollers. That is everybody except my sisters. I have seven of those at home, and I won't even tell you what they call me!"

"The food is pretty good around here," added the hobbit, nodding his head enthusiastically. " Cela Brandybuck's the Cook, and most of the time she does alright by us." Tollman thought it best not to mention those few occasions when the Cook got a little pig-headed and decided to do some fancy dishes of her own. Those silly foods did not always match up to Miss Cela's daily fare, but he would never have told that to her face.

"So you like to work odd jobs and spend your time rambling on the road? Well Jack, I can't say as I blame you. That kind of life sounds fine to me, and I would take off myself, only my mum would be mighty upset. You see, she and my da think I should get married and settle down, especially with seven sisters still at home. They say it's my duty to find a hobbit lass who has a lot of brothers who'd take up with my sisters."

"But that's enough of me and my folks. What about you? If you want to pick up an odd job or two, I am thinking the Innkeeper might be willing. I mean you are a mighty big fellow, and there's not too many your size that we see around these parts. There is an occasional Elf about, but they seem to have nothing to do with good honest work. They are always into stories and songs and herbs and such. I did hear something about the Innkeeper wanting to get some big jobs done, and you might be just the man for that. If you'd like, I can talk with him."

"Plus, you and me could do some fishin' on the side. I have a fine boat tied up across the yard on the bank of the Brandywine. I think it is big enough that even you could fit inside. If you ever want to borrow it, just say the word and it's yours for the askin' for an afternoon or even a nightime fishin' expedition."

[Lilly]

Taffy stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His fingers were itching to touch the pieces he saw on the board. ‘Well, sir,’ Taffy began, ‘we’re from up north, on the Brandywine.’ He looked away from the board and up at Griffo, wondering if the gaffer would know the place. ‘Girdley Island, actually.’ That’s my family over there at that table. My mother and little sister. My dad . . .’ he craned his neck about, and pointed toward the counter. ‘He’s over there getting something to drink.’ He remembered his manners and introduced himself. ‘I’m Taffy . . . Taffy Sandybanks.’

He shifted from foot to foot, his interest drawn back to the game. Temptation won out against his better manners and he reached for one of the white painted pieces. ‘Look at this one! It’s got a crown, doesn’t it?’ He placed it carefully back on the board. ‘And this here’s got a smaller one on its head.’ He picked up one with a pony carved on it and jumped it playfully over the little piece in front of it and then back again.

Without waiting for an invitation, Taffy climbed up onto the chair opposite Griffo. He settled in on his knees and leaned in over the table, looking from one side of the board to the other.

'You know, I have a little knife my father gave me. I’ll bet I could whittle up some figures like these. Well, not exactly like these. I’m not really all that good at it yet. But I could teach my Granpa this new kind of game.’

He looked over at Griffo, his little brows raised in question. ‘So how do you move these little pieces.’ One of his stubby little fingers rested on the head of a pawn. ‘Is it hard to learn? Do you think you could teach me?’

[Arry]

It was a relief to Will as he crossed the yard to the stable to see a cart and horse pull up. A family . . . the Sandybanks, the husband told him. Will had assured him he’d take good care of Marigold, and find a place to pen in the goats.

‘Come on, girl!’ Will urged the pony forward, drawing the little cart beneath the eaves of the stable. ‘Now you wait here a bit, while I bring your friends into the barn. I’ll just get them put away safely, then come for you.’ The two nannies fit in one of the stalls, and were left quite contentedly munching on some fresh hay.

Marigold had waited patiently for him and stood quite still as he removed her harness and bridle. She nickered softly and nosed him in the shoulder as he led her into the stable. ‘How ‘bout a nice nosebag of oats for you? I’ll brush and comb you while you’re eating.’ Will ran his hand over the pony’s back. ‘Been on the road a while, eh?’

As the pony munched on her oats, Will began to brush her. He like to talk to the horses as he groomed them, and she was no exception.

‘Too bad girls can’t be more like ponies, Marigold,’ he began, moving his arm in long strokes with the brush. The pony twitched her ears back toward him as if she were listening closely. ‘You’re so much easier to talk to . . . and you don’t expect much. Or maybe it’s just that I know what you expect and what to do for you.’ She’d finished her oats and he’d removed the bag giving her some time to drink a little of the fresh water he’d brought in to her stall.

‘I’ve got six brothers. What do I know about the lasses?’ Marigold turned her head back and eyed him. She snorted as if urging him to go on. Will switched to the curry-comb and plunged ahead with his one-sided conversation.

‘You see . . . I’ve gotten myself into a little trouble . . .’ He unraveled the story of his letters home to Crickhollow and the impending visit of his mother and sisters-in-law . . . and the plan that Cook had come up with at breakfast.

‘Now how am I going to even look those two in the face?’ he asked in an exasperated voice. Marigold stamped her foot on the packed dirt floor of the stall, sending up hay dust from the layer strewn on ground. ‘Oh, sorry!’ he said, pulling the comb from a tangle he hadn’t noticed. He worked the tangle out with his fingers and went back to using the comb.

‘I mean, I have to work with them!’ He fell silent for a while, letting his hands move gently and efficiently over the pony’s coat. ‘We’re friends, you know. We talk and tease each other and such . . . I just have no idea what else I’m supposed to do . . .’

[Folwren]

"That is a predicament, isn't it?" Dick mumbled. "But it sounds as though the way out isn't too difficult." He paused to drink some of his cooled tea. "I thought you said he had told her there were four lasses? We only have two."

"The other two are dealt with easily enough," Cela responded and told him what she had told Will and the two girls about his other two lasses being away or unavailable. Dick sat back in his chair and stared at her. When she was done, he picked up his fork again, shaking his head.

"That's what comes of going on about something that isn't true. Well, I hope you can convince Will in doing as you suggest, because that's the only way out of it that I see, unless he disappears himself for a while. When are they coming?"

Cela looked at Primrose, and Primrose thought for a moment. "A month, I think he said," she told him after a pause. "In a month's time." Dick nodded.

"Well, if Will doesn't want to go along with your plan, I might figure out some errand or other to send him on that will take a few days." He stood up, having finished his breakfast. "Goodness knows where I'll send him. . ." he muttered. He shook himself and straightened up, and started towards the door once more with a spring in his step. Then he stopped and turned about again.

"Oh, Cela, one last thing. If Tollers comes back for more food, give it to him and don't make a fuss. I told him he could come back for seconds."

"He shouldn't have to!" Cela said somewhat huffly. She turned back to her bacon. "He took enough for two earlier!"

"That's just it," Dick responded. "There are two. Just go ahead and give him his seconds if he asks for them, and don't be surprised if he takes another heaping plateful."

[Firefoot]

“Very well,” said Cela finally. “He will have them.”

“Thanks, Cela,” said Dick, and he returned to the common room, leaving Cela and Primrose alone once more.

“Now,” she said, turning to Primrose. “I don’t want you harboring any notions that what you’re feeling is ‘silliness.’ Will’s a fine young hobbit, and you might do worse than him.” Cela thought she could see Primrose’s ears reddening a bit. Better Will than Tollers… spends more time dreaming than working, she thought, but kept it to herself. “But you don’t spend enough time with those your own age. When was the last time you went out and did something fun? I don’t need your help in the kitchen all the time, you know. I’m not so old as that! Master Dick shouldn’t have any problems with that, and if he does he can take them up with me.

“Oh! The bacon,” she remembered suddenly, hastening to take the sizzling meat off the hot griddle. She sniffed the air critically. “No, not burnt… next thing to it, though,” she muttered. “Next thing I’ll be sugaring the eggs instead of salting them.”

[Envinyatar]

‘Well, now . . . I been out on my own long about ten years or more I’d say.’ Jack leaned back in his chair and sipped at his ale. ‘My family had a little farm in Breeland. Grew mostly rocks. Wore my Da to the bone it did. I sure enough did not want to end up like him. Married to someone as could hardly stand him by the time they were getting on in years.’

‘Nope . . . packed up and left and never looked back. And sorry to say I’ll bet they never give a thought for where old Jack is. Ah, well . . . some folks is lucky and some just aren’t.’ He fished in one his pockets for a plain wood pipe and an old leather pouch of pipeweed. ‘Though, for my part, I do feel lucky that I’m where I am and not back on the family farm. I make my own way, on my own time. Suits me so far.’

He offered the pouch to Tollers. ‘Care for a pipeful? Longbottom Leaf, from a fellow’s farm in the Southfarthing. He didn’t bother to add he had appropriated it from the farmer’s drying shed, bypassing the actual purchase of it.

‘Say, about that fishing you mentioned. Sounds like a good thing to do on a day like this.’ He leaned forward, toward the Hobbit. ‘You got chores to do? Maybe I could lend a hand and get ‘em done faster.’ He puffed on his pipe, thinking. ‘A mess of fish, all fried up nice and crispy, would sure make a fine supper, don’t you think? Bet we could find us a little patch of mushrooms, too.’

Jack took the last swig of ale and sat the empty mug back on the table. He nodded his head thoughtfully as he considered his little plan. ‘Fishing’s more fun when you’re out with a buddy. Up to you, though.’

[Tevildo]

To have a buddy and go fishing on a gorgeous, sunny day..... Tollman's eyes gleemed with excitement as he puffed on his pipe and reflected on the prospect of slipping away to venture down to his beloved river. Still, the Innkeeper had been very clear that this was expected to be a heavy day with many travellers inquiring after rooms at the Inn. He couldn't just slip off in the morning and not show up to help with the serving at lunchtime. He would get himself in a pack of trouble.

Tollman was about to give his new companion a reluctant "no", when suddenly an enticing image flashed inside his head. It was a picture of a very large, fat fish. Tollman was standing on the small dock that stood behind the Inn's courtyard and was holding up that enormous fish, showing it off to the other hobbit lads and lasses, who grinned back at him admiringly.

That picture was not so entirely far fetched. Yesterday evening, the hobbit had been down by the great oak, not far from the Inn itself, just at the point where the river makes a bend, and he'd spied a gargantuan creature swimming about in the water. It was the largest fish that Tollman had ever witnessed, and it looked so incredibly enticing. If he was to bring back such a monstor brute for Cook to use in the kitchen, surely all would be forgiven.

"Well, Master Jack, this morning is a bit tight for me. I've promised to drag some tables and chairs into the Inn from the storage shed. After that, I have to help serve lunch. But the afternoon is another thing. It gets a little slow and sleepy in these parts after we clean up the dining room. I can usually manage to get away then, and no one will be the wiser, if you know what I mean. If you wait till then, I can get you more than a frypan of fish. I'll lead you over to a spot on the river where there's a monstor fish lurking in the shadows. He would feed an awful lot of hungry hobbits. If we can hook and net 'em, I imagine Innkeeper and Cook might be so grateful you'd earn yourself a free bed for at least a night or two."

"Anyways," Tollman added with a grin, "it's better to go after lunch because I can slip out two nice packet's full of Cela's excellent food and bring them along with us."

[Folwren]

Dick came back out of the kitchen smiling a little. He looked up at the hobbit standing at the bar and his smile widened, though inside his head, he scolded himself for having to have made him wait.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were here. What can I do you for you, sir?”

Madoc Sandybanks assured him it was no great trouble and told him what he wanted. Dick nodded and picked up a mug from beneath the bar. He turned briefly away to fill it.

“Well, here’s your ale, sir,” Dick said, putting the foaming mug onto the bar, “and the tea will be right out. Do you want any of those to have milk or sugar in them? You have two young ones perhaps that would like it?” His eyes twinkled as he gave him a knowing smile. His quick eye had caught the two young hobbits already - one sitting at the table with a young mother, and the other standing by old Griffo’s chair, looking deeply interested in the chess game the old gaffer played with himself.

[Forest Elf]

Gable was walking down the road, wearing boys clothes and her arrows and short bow strung over her shoulder. Gable held a lead rope to an injured pony. Her hair, that had been neatly braided before sun up, was a mess, twigs were caught in it and stray strands of hair blowing in the wind, a blob of bloody mud showed on her cheek, when the pony had reared.

Gable felt proud, her heart soaring and yet she needed to get to the stables and find Will, to get the pony nursed back to health. She moved as fast as she could along the road, with a limping pony.

She could finnally see the stables, she moved along with the pony a little faster and when she saw Will standing there with Marrigold, Gable cried out, "Will! I have a pony that needs looking after, can you take a look at her?" indicating the pony's right bloody front leg and her bloody side.

[Arry]

Will had put away the comb and brush and was just taking the nosebag off Marigold when Gable walked into the stable doorway. He stepped from the stall and fastened it carefully behind him.

‘Oh! What’s happened?’ he said, his brow furrowing as he looked from Gable’s bloody cheek to the pony she was leading. It was in worse shape than the Elf. Its front leg, on the right, was bloody. And it had blood along its flank, too. Will took the lead and brought the pony further into the stable.

He asked Gable to get some of the clean, soft rags piled in the basket by the work table and a bucket of fresh water. As she did so, he talked quietly to the pony, getting it to calm itself down.

‘Here, lass,’ he said, handing the lead back to the Elf. ‘You talk nice and calmly to her, won’t you. Keep her attention on you.’ He dipped a wadded rag into the water and began to gently wash down the pony’s leg, feeling his way along the bones and muscles as he did so.

‘How did this happen to her?’ he asked Gable as his fingers gently probed for any broken bones. ‘Did some beast attack her?’

[Lilly]

‘M'dear wife will have cream and sugar, if you would,’ said Madoc, raising his half pint to the Innkeeper. He took a deep drink and sighed quite contentedly as he set the half empty mug back on the countertop. ‘My stars! That is surely as sweet and satisfying as a wind from the West.’ He tapped his finger on the rim of his mug, indicating he’d like it topped off.

‘Ah, yes, the tea. Taffy’s fond of lump sugar. Boy saw his uncle grab a small lump between his front teeth and sip his tea through it. And the wee one, Seren, she fancies honey in hers.’

Madoc watched as the server brought out another platter stacked with plates of eggs, bacon, and baskets of biscuits. His stomach began to rumble fiercely. Think I’d best be getting back to the table. That breakfast looks might good. Can’t wait to tuck into it.’ He fished into the side pocket of his vest and brought out his coin purse. ‘This should do it,’ he said, pushing a number of small coins across the counter top.

He lifted his mug to the Innkeeper, and then made his way through the aisles between the tables to his own.

[Folwren]

Dick returned to the kitchen briefly to tell Cella to make tea and then went back out. He cast a quick glance around, noting who was there and who all had been served. Once he was satisfied that everyone had at least something to eat or drink and looked satisfied, he left his post and made his way across to where Griffo and the young Sandybanks boy sat together.

For a moment, he stood back away from the two, watching with keen interested as the old hobbit explained to the young one how the pieces moved.

“Now you see here, laddie,” Griffo was explaining. His old, age dotted hands picked up the handsomely carved horse, “this here is a knight. He can forward two spaces and then to the right and the left one space. See that?”

“You took him to the left,” Taffy said, leaning over the board.

“You can move him any direction,” Griffo said, nodding. Dick grinned and walked towards them the last few paces.

“Good morning, Griffo!” he said, patting the old hobbit on the shoulder. “How’s the game coming this morning? I see you have a young apprentice,” he added, smiling kindly at Taffy. “Is he learning quick?”

[Forest Elf]

"You know how I like adventures and such, and I was off to find one of my oun. I was walking down the road and saw her, she was being attacked by wolf, I killed the wolf and brought her back here. . .I just wish I could've found her owner." Gable said softly, stroking the pony's muzzle.

"She still had her saddle on, but I had to take that off, it was too torn to keep and there was some of a cape stuck to the saddle. . ." Gable said, a look of sadness swept over her face for a second.

Gable watched Will finish checking the pony's injured leg, while stroking the side of the pony's neck.

[Envinyatar]

Easy now Jack, m’boy . . . don’t push!

He could almost see the calculations running through the Halfling’s mind . . . the scale tipping toward one side and then the other. Duty versus Pleasure. And then he could see that Tollers had found the balance he needed to come to a decision . . . to make a plan.

‘Well, now, I think I can work with that if you can . . . Tollers. Be fine to fish the afternoon.’ He eyed the Halfling to see if his use of his familiar name had been acceptable.

‘Speaking of that free bed and such . . .’ Jack yawned and stretched a bit. ‘I been sleepin’ rough lately and I’ve got to say now as I’m all relaxed with food in my belly and a mug of this fine ale . . . I am bone-tired.’ He looked out the window, at the ponies and carts that made there way down the road. ‘Yessir, it’s been shank’s mare for me these past few weeks.’ He took a quick sip of ale and stretched his long legs out beneath the table. ‘You wouldn’t know where I might catch a bit of a kip, would you? Just so’s I’d be nice and rested and ready to catch a few fat trout with you . . .’

[Arry]

Will’s attention was focused on the immediacy of the animal’s wounds. He nodded his head, smiling tightly, as he finished his exam of the leg. There were no broken bones. And the wounds though long and ragged edged did not cut deep into the muscles or tendons.

‘Bring my wooden chest over here, won’t you Gable? It’s there on the shelf just above the workbench.’ Will held the pony’s lead while the Elf fetched the box. ‘I think just some of this soothing ointment and a nice pad of moss against these wounds on the leg will be enough for now.’ He worked quickly, letting Gable talk soothingly to the pony.

‘Now you said something about a saddle? All torn up?’ Will glanced at Gable as he asked the question. He’d finished bandaging the leg and was now cleaning the gashes in the pony’s flank. ‘And a piece of cape?’ he went on, his head shaking at the greater depth of one of the gashes. ‘I think I’ll need to put in a few stitches to this one before we bandage it.’ ‘Hmmm . . . I wonder how bad the rider must look if his fleet footed pony suffered these sort of injuries.’

‘Here, help me spread this sticky goo on the wounds. Old Granny Bracken made it up for me. She swears the herbs and such in it will keep all sorts of ailments for bothering raw cuts like these.’ They worked in companionable silence for a while. ‘Go ahead then, Gable, and find her a nice, clean stall. Make sure she’s got water and hay to munch on and a nice thick layer of straw if she wants to lie down.’ He started to put his medicines and bandages away in the chest and clean up the mess. ‘Don’t know if she’ll let you, but she might feel more relaxed if she’ll let you brush her a bit and get the tangles and burrs out of her coat.’

[Forest Elf]

Gable led the pony into a stall, making sure that there was plenty of hay and water for the pony. Gable walked out of the stall and grabbed a brush, walked back in, and started to brush the pony, on her uninjured side, starting on the pony's mane. She brushed out the tangles and worked on getting some burrs, careful to be gentle with the pony, to help calm her down.

Once she finished on the pony's mane, she started brushing the pony's neck, and worked her way down to the flank, until she finished that side of the pony. Gable started on the other side, being careful to aviod the slashes on her flank as possible, and worked her way around them, until she finished that side.

"Will, would you mind if I went in and cleaned up a bit? Incase someone would come in and see me, so that I wouldn't frighten them away." Gable asked, while walking out of the stall, and she closed the door behind her, letting the pony rest.

[piosenniel]

‘Turn in here!’ Tanwen said, gesturing to the wide dirt track that led from the Causeway to the inn. ‘I’m sure it’s The Golden Perch. It must be.’ She leaned further forward on her seat, looking out past her brother. ‘I’m sure that’s Stock Road; that bigger one that ties into the one we’re on.’ She squinted her eyes at the sign she saw hanging from the post nearer the building. ‘Looks like a fish! I think we’ve found it.’

They’d been traveling about in the southern part of the Shire these past several weeks. Talking to farmers about their crops, pipeweed in particular – it being a very desirable commodity. But herbs, too, were on their list of things to be on the lookout for, as well as honey and good Shire oats and wool. Their last stop had been at Bamfurlong Farm in the Marish. A stop at a small public house just north of Deephallow had piqued their interest in the tangy pickled mushrooms that had been served with the pan-fried coney. ‘Come from Bamfurlong, just up north a ways, the Maggot farm, been in the same family for years. Mushrooms a plenty grow on their land.’ Rhys and Tanni had arranged for several straw-filled baskets packed with small crocks of the condiment be sent down to the Ford.

Rhys clucked his tongue at Nia and Olwen, urging the mares off the dirt track and toward the stable. ‘Anyone here?’’ he called out, drawing up in front of the open doorway. He set the brake on the cart and got down to find the stableman.

[Celuien]

Primrose turned her attention to the biscuits, silent and thoughtful, her ears still aflame. Cela didn't think her new found interest in Will was silly. Primrose only wished she could feel the same way. True, she could have cast her attention in a worse direction than the congenial, hard-working Will. But she wasn't sure that she had any business casting her attention in any direction, especially towards someone who was clearly trying his best to avoid any attention of the kind. Had he wanted such attentions, he wouldn't have needed to invent names to send his relatives.

She tried to sort through her confused emotions. Silly. She was silly to permit herself to be so flustered by a joke. And she was silly to allow the embarrassment to continue with Cela's plan, which was really just a bit of fun. But even more importantly, if she told herself that she was silly, Primrose couldn't be disappointed that Will was, in fact, only joking. And so she decided to cling to the word for the time, despite Cela's words to the contrary. If it happened that she didn't need to remind herself of having a foolish fancy, she could drop that defense later.

But the little game would present a problem. If she played along, Primrose would be in constant danger of betraying herself to Will. Yet maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have the excuse of the game after all. It was possible that she would unintentionally let something slip. A slip during the impersonation was forgivable and even expected as a ploy for her part in the deception. Her main difficulty would lie in not becoming frustrated that it was all a game and not permitting the play acting to work her emotions into something more than they were. She wasn't sure what those feelings were, having arisen so unexpectedly, and did not want them to become more confused than they already were.

Cela was hurrying the bacon to a plate. Primrose began cutting her dough into biscuit shape and preparing another batch for the oven. As she slid the pan into the heat, she turned to Cela again and sighed.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not silly. I don't know anything. But enough of this for the present. Someone will hear, and I'm not wanting Will to take notice of anything just now."

As if in justification of Primrose's fear of eavesdroppers, Dick reappeared at the door to call for tea. She started the tea and, drawing close to Cela's ear, whispered, "Do you think he knows? He heard some of what we were saying before."

[Arry]

Will nodded at Gable, looking up at her hair in disarray and the blood from the pony’s wounds drying on her. ‘Yes, yes,’ he encouraged her. ‘Yes, go on ahead and get yourself cleaned up a bit. We won’t really need to be doing anything until late afternoon. Then you can help me bring the ponies and horses in from the exercise yard and get them brushed and fed. We can check on that new pony’s wounds, too, and see how . . .’

He was cut off mid-sentence as a voice from the stable door called for service. ‘Go on now, Gable, I’ll see to what the man wants. You go on and wash up.’

Will plunged his hands into a clean bucket of water and washed them up as quickly as he could. He was just drying them on a towel as he reached the door to the stable. One of the Big Folk stood there and just beyond him stood two lovely greys still hitched to their cart.

‘Name’s Will. Will Hayward,’ he said, nodding at the man, a welcoming smile on his face. ‘How can I help you?’

[Undómë]

Rowan wove her away around the innkeeper as he poked his head back out of the kitchen door. Her serving tray was empty and she was after another load of filled platters for the hungry breakfasters who were making their way into the common room. Primrose, she noted, had sidled up close to Cela and seemed to be whispering something in the older woman’s ear.

Now what was that all about, she wondered. Who didn’t she want hearing what she had to say? And for that matter, what was such a secret that it couldn’t be said aloud in the kitchen, among friends? Rowan’s brow furrowed as she considered the questions and their possible answers.

Hmmmm . . . my granny would say those two are thick as flies round a honeypot! she thought to herself.

She flicked her eyes away from the two conspirators, smoothing out the questioning lines in her face, and fixed her gaze on the platters of eggs and bacon and baskets of biscuits set out on the table. With quick movements she deftly piled a number of platters on her tray and hoisted it up to her shoulder, to balance there as well as on the fingers of her right hand.

‘You know,’ she said, stuffing a few extra forks in one of the deep pockets of her apron. ‘Didn’t Will say he was going to work on the roof of the stable today?’ She looked from one to the other for confirmation. ‘Well, maybe when we’re done with breakfast, one of us ought to pack up a little basket for him – for his second breakfast and lunch, too. I’m sure he’ll be busy and won’t want to make time to clean up and come in. What do you think?’ She grinned impishly in Primrose’s direction. ‘In fact, we could take turns with the delivery – one of us to take one meal and the other to take the next.’ She readjusted the load on her shoulder in preparation for going back out to the common room.

‘What do you think, Primrose?’

[piosenniel]

The horses’ needs had been discussed and a price for their care negotiated. Will seemed a knowledgeable enough person as he and Rhys spoke together and quite conscientious, too. Rhys glanced about the stable and thought it appeared quite clean and well kept. Being an orderly person, himself, this raised the ostler a number of notches in his estimation. He helped Will settle the cart in under the protection of the stable eaves and then left Nia and Olwen comfortably to the Halfling’s capable care.

Tanni had already made her way to the inn’s front door as he turned to find her. Rhys ran quickly across the short expanse of yard to catch up to her. He paused before opening the door to straighten his tunic and brush the hair that had crept from the thick braid down his back back into some semblance of order. Tanni smiled at him as he did so. She’d shaken the dust from her dark blue cloak and draped it artlessly about her. Her hair was thick as her brother's. And while he strove to keep his neat and contained, she did not. A thin copper-colored band held it back somewhat from her brow. But the masses of gingered curls crept here and there about her fair face, swaying freely as she moved and cascading down below her shoulders.

Rhys motioned her through the open door before him. Both stopped briefly in the entry way letting their eyes, used to the bright morning, adjust to the room’s more subdued light. It was warm inside the inn, and Rhys took his sister’s cloak from her, hanging it on one of the pegs by the door. And next to hers, his.

‘I’ll find us a table,’ she told him, her gaze darting here and there, taking in the folk already seated. ‘Over there,’ she said, lifting her chin to where a man sat alone. ‘He looks a bit road-worn; his demeanor’s not too threatening seeming.’ She watched him from the corner of her eye as he ate his meal. ‘And he seems to have learnt some manners along the way. So perhaps we can have a pleasant conversation with him . . . learn something of where he’s been and what, if any, cautions he might give us about the way to Bree.’

Rhys nodded, saying he would fetch some ale for himself and a little wine for her. He, too, gave the promising tablemate a once or twice over, wondering what the man’s business here might be. He looked a little too rough to be a competitor. He trusted Tanni’s quick assessment of the man, knowing her first instincts about a person were usually close to the mark. He watched as she made her way to where the man sat.

~*~

‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ Tanni said, as she reached the table. She placed her hands on the back of an empty chair and gave the man a quick smile. ‘My brother and I have just been traveling, up from Sarn Ford. Might we sit with you to break our fast.....and perhaps share in any word you have of happenings along the road to Bree?’

[Celuien]

Rowan had certainly chosen an inopportune moment for her entrance. Primrose wondered what her friend would think of her whispering to Cela. Secrecy was little practiced at the Golden Perch. But Primrose couldn't tell Rowan, who would probably make light of the situation. And Primrose was in no mood to be teased.

Rowan suggested bringing Will his meals. That was a reasonable enough idea. He did have work to do at the stable. There was nothing unusual about it, though its pairing with Rowan's grin suddenly made Primrose uneasy.

Now she was asked her opinion. "What do you think, Primrose?"

It was a good idea. Primrose had no reason to say otherwise, even if the mischievous grin on Rowan's face made her worry that her conversation with Cela was known over the entire Inn. That was a silly thought, and Primrose scolded herself for it. It couldn't be so. Rowan would have mentioned it directly. But if it were so, Primrose would do her best to dispel rumors by behaving as if there was nothing to trouble her.

Primrose attempted a giggle and answered. "I think it's a perfect idea. Saves Will some trouble. And..." Primrose shot a sidelong glance at Cela, "And it's a chance to bother him about the plan. It would spoil the fun to dream up our plots and then not have him go along with the game, wouldn't it?"

[Envinyatar]

The pair of new faces in the doorway caught his attention. Hithadan looked over the two as they entered. A striking couple, he thought. And at ease in the room as if they had been here before and knew the inn well. He cast his eyes back down to his plate and plied his fork and knife as the woman gazed his way. Sizing him up, it seemed.

It cannot be for my purse. he chuckled to himself, scooping a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth. Nor the elegance of my company . . . he continued, picking a piece of egg that had escaped his fork up from the table. He popped the truant morsel in his mouth, chuckling again.

Whatever it was, in a matter of moments, the woman had come up to his table. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she said, as she reached the table and placing her hands on the back of the empty chair to the left of him, she gave him a pretty smile. ‘My brother and I have just been traveling, up from Sarn Ford. Might we sit with you to break our fast.....and perhaps share in any word you have of happenings along the road to Bree?’

‘Company would be most welcome!’ The Ranger stood and pulled out the chair for her, bidding her to sit if she would. ‘Hithadan, here, m’lady,’ he said nodding to her as he sat back down. He pushed his plate to the side, and brought his mug of tea into the circle of his hands. ‘I do know a little of the way to Bree. A friend of mine was just recently there and gave me news of recent happenings.’ He sat back comfortable in his chair, looking her over openly as he sipped from his mug. ‘It’s a long way from the Ford to Breeland. Might I ask what you . . . and your brother, is it . . . are doing on your travels?’

[Undómë]

‘I think it's a perfect idea,’ Primrose answered. ‘Saves Will some trouble. And . . . and it's a chance to bother him about the plan. It would spoil the fun to dream up our plots and then not have him go along with the game, wouldn't it?’

‘Well, well . . .’ thought Rowan, noting the slight nervous edge to the giggle which accompanied the words. As the middle child in her parents’ brood, she had gotten quite good at reading those subtle signs and assigning some sort of meaning to them. For the most part, at least with her own family, she could be quite accurate with her assessments.

Primrose, though a friend and fellow worker, might not be as easy to read, she cautioned herself. On the one hand, Prim could be outgoing and even boisterous at times. And she was what her Gran would call a flighty lass. But this sort of new . . . shyness, she called it for want of a better word was a new development. Rowan tapped the ball of her right foot softly on the floor; an unthinking habit of hers when she was puzzling something out.

An idea dawned; one which both surprised and delighted her. The ‘game’ with Will, as Primrose had called it, suddenly took on a new focus for Rowan. It was only a game to her; she and Will were friends, indeed, but nothing beyond that in the slightest. With fresh eyes she took stock of her friend, Prim . . . looking beyond the flour dusted apron and the cheeks reddened by the heat of the oven.

‘My, my, my . . .’ she murmured, then looked away guiltily. Rowan covered her actions with an exasperated sigh. ‘You know . . . I just recalled that once I’ve finished changing the linens and tidying up, I did promise Granny Bracken I would help her turn the first of the strawberries into jam. I can’t stand her up; she’s been out early this morning I’m sure to pick them.’

She looked pleadingly toward Primrose. ‘Can you make some time to . . . well, start the game and deliver Will a basket of food?’ Rowan looked over towards Cela, too. ‘That’ll be alright, won’t it? You can spare her for a little bit, can’t you?’

[Tevildo]

"A bit of a kip, is it? Well, you're welcome to use my room, and it won't cost you a penny. The bed would be a tight fit but you can pull the coverlet onto the floor where there's a nice sheepskin rug that will do just as well as any mattress. Mind your head with the beams, and you'll do perfectly fine. The room's not locked. You'll have no trouble getting in."

Tollers stood up and wagged his finger in the direction of the fireplace, indicating to Jack that he should follow the twisting corridor that branched off at that point. He went on to explain, "That hall leads deep inside the hill. Plenty of rooms for hobbits, and also the pantries, supply rooms, and wine cellar. My room is the last one on the right just before the cellar where the beer barrels are stored. Now, I'm afraid I'll have to run. I am already behind in my work."

Tollers waved a cheery hand and sprinted off towards the kitchen where he was supposed to be washing dishes. He turned around one last time and called out to Jack, "There's cheese and biscuits in the locker at the foot of my bed. The table's a bit cluttered. I was counting out my pay last night. Just sweep the pennies into my leather pouch along with all the others and stuff the bag under my bed. That way, you'll have a nice, clear space if you decide to eat a little snack." With that final suggestion, Tollers ducked inside the kitchen and was lost from sight.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot entered the inn, humming to herself. She was late today. She would have been here earlier, if she had not spent all her morning, sewing little Tom's trowsers. That was the third time that week that one of her brothers' clothes got torn. "And I won't bother next time, to be sure of it!" she said to herself. "Wherever are those two going, that they tear their clothes so often, I can't guess. Stealing mushrooms and strawberries, I suppose. They'll end up with soon with a smaking and no mistake from one of the farmers, and serves them right!"

She went to her usual table and sat down. She looked around her with interest. She saw new guests at the inn, and also some of the Big Folk. She rubbed her hands, excited. She had always felt intrigued by other races. She was thankful that the inn was a meeting place for all sorts of people. She loved hobbits, but it was a bit dull to see the same faces every day.

Meliot looked out through the window. It was as fine a day as any could wish. The boys will be up to trouble again, she thought, they could not stay home on such a day. "Well, let mum or Poppy take care of them, for a change." she muttered, dismissing the idea of going out and looking for her brothers. She felt too comfortable to get up right now, and she also did not like to give up a day at the Golden Perch, once she was there.

[Durelin]

'An inquisitive lad,' Griffo was now finding out, had been an understatement of a thought. He had never heard so many questions fly from anyone's mouth in so short a time. Then again, it was never any good trying to keep up with young ones. That was something the gaffer had learned from his own children. And now he was getting up there in age, though he would never say it was nearing time for him to give up the ghost.

"Well, Taffy..." he eyed the hobbit boy across from him, and his eyes twinkled a bit as he watched the little hands move from piece to piece. "It's not all that hard. And you've already figured out where to start. That piece you've got now...yes, that one...that's called a pawn, and it's the simplest piece on the board. And, at least in all the times I've played, they're the pieces that go first."

Then Griffo proceeded to tell the young hobbit how each piece was moved, demonstrating as he did. He was pleased to find that the lad could keep himself still, but the gaffer did his best to keep the explanations brief. He was sure that the boy would have quite enough to amuse himself with simply knowing how each piece traveled across the board.

After he explained each piece, he allowed Taffy to move them around the board as he had been shown. The young hobbit looked to Griffo every once in a while to make sure he was doing it right, and the gaffer simply nodded and smiled in encouragement. When Taffy had full knowledge of how to move chess pieces, Griffo decided to learn some more about the boy before he risked plunging into a full lesson on chess playing that he really didn't feel he was up to instructing.

"You do whittlin', lad? You do seem to have a steady hand." He nodded thoughtfully. "I bet you could do some pieces like these justice."

[Forest Elf]

Gable nodded her thanks and walked out of the barn. She hurriedly made her way through the Inn and to her room, where she cleaned up and rebraided her hair.

She came out of her room, still wearing the boys clothes, and made her way to the kitchen for breakfast, since she hadn't thought of having any before sun up. She walked into the kitchen and asked, "Primrose, can I have some breakfast?"

[Celuien]

"Primrose, can I have some breakfast?"

Primrose's head turned around to catch a view of the speaker. It was Gable. The hobbit smiled, welcoming the intrusion. Gable's appearance was a distraction from talk about Will, and Primrose was afraid that she had been placed on the spot a bit more than was good for her.

"Of course you may! Have a seat. We've biscuits with jam and honey, eggs, and bacon this morning. I was just putting on the tea - ready in half a minute!"

Primrose busied herself with putting a plate together for Gable. As she did so, she wondered about the Elf. What strange chance had brought her to live in the Shire? Hobbits were such stay-at-home folk, other than those Tooks and that Mad Baggins away in Hobbiton. How could a respectable Hobbit couple have come into the charge of an Elf-child? Though Gable had been a fixture at the Inn for years, Primrose had never worked up the courage to ask. But she would today, if for no other reason than to keep her mind off of Will.

The plate was ready. Primrose looked at Cela and Rowan. "Yes, Cela. If you could spare me, I'd like to take the meals to Will. If you can spare me." Flustered again, Primrose snatched the plate of food and hurried it over to Gable.

Primrose asked her question. "Gable. I've been meaning to ask you. How did your kin - the Elves, I mean - come to know Hobbits? I've never heard of Elves in the Shire, and Hobbits have never been great folk for adventures, excepting old Mad Baggins, of course. How did it happen that you came here?

"Now if I'm being an old busybody, never mind me. Just have your breakfast, and we'll call an end of it." Primrose laughed lightly, hoping that Gable would answer.

[Forest Elf]

"Well, to be honest, I'm not really sure how they met, or even came to know them. Just that they were old friends with the couple. But I heard that they came to the shire once, when they were young, to see what this peaceful town is like, disguised as hobbits, where they met up with Merri and Gracie, then left a couple of months later, but I've also heard that Merri and Gracie met them somewhere, but there's a lot of talk about that. . .so I can't really say for sure. . ." Tamia said, thoughtfully, her mind still on the pony that she found.

"Has anyone come in here, looking for their pony?" Gable asked, cassually. "Or have you heard of anyone looking for their pony, or of anyone who has had some. . .troubles with wolves?"

[Celuien]

Primrose sighed. Elven folk had so many mysteries. She didn't think she believed that Elves would disguise themselves as Hobbits. But if Gable said so, she wouldn't press the matter. The Elf had a right to keep her secrets. She was terribly curious, but could accept not knowing more. Other than where Will was concerned, Primrose had good, plain Hobbit sense, and she thought that the affairs of the Elves as they passed to the Sea (or so it was said) could have little impact on life in the Shire. She was content, she supposed, not to know. At least for now.

"Has anyone come in here, looking for their pony? Or have you heard of anyone looking for their pony, or of anyone who has had some. . .troubles with wolves?"

The tea kettle whistled. Primrose hurried to take it off the fire. As she poured the hot water into a teapot, she said, "Wolves? Can't say as I have. I've not heard of any lost ponies either. Why do you ask?"

[Firefoot]

“Wolves? In the Shire?” interjected Cela, who had thus far gone about her business in indignant silence, having been rather annoyed when Gable waltzed into the kitchen asking for breakfast without a word to her. Hmph. “Poppycock. There haven’t been any wolves in the Shire since the Fell Winter, and that was long before any of you were born, and almost before I was. Now, a mad dog I might believe.” For all her sometimes absent-mindedness and mischievous ways, the stolidness of her kind had not wholly escaped Cela, and while some might call Gable adventurous, Cela said fanciful – a little too fanciful. She might do well with a bit of hobbit sense, something several years living in the Shire had not yet managed to instill in her.

“As for missing ponies, I’ve heard naught.” She turned to Primrose with a slight smile. “Now, Primrose, of course I can spare you for a bit this afternoon – I’m not sure what you two lasses take me for, not being able to manage my own kitchen for a short bit on my own. Not that your help isn’t unappreciated, Primrose dear, but I’m not so old as that.”

[Undómë]

Rowan grinned impishly at Cook, biting back a small comment on Cela’s age. She ducked out the door of the kitchen with her refilled tray of breakfast platters and made her round of the customers. Her last basket of hot biscuits was set down for the new family who’d recently come in 'with honey and jam both, if you please, Miss’ from the little girl. Rowan had dipped a little curtsy to the girl, saying she would bring her an extra pot of jam – blackberry, very tasty . . . and Rowan’s favorite one.

She was just on her way back to the kitchen, her empty tray banging along lightly against her ankle when she spied a familiar face. Rowan changed course and headed to Meliot Tussle’s table.

‘I thought you weren’t coming today! Didn’t see you at your usual time.’ Rowan sat her big tray’s edge on the floor in front of her and leaned on it a bit. ‘So what can I get for you, Meliot?’ She leaned in a little closer, pitching her voice a little lower. ‘Did you hear about the Bolger boys? The two younger ones? I heard something about them getting caught by old Noakes. They were getting up before the sun was up and stealing fish out of his traps. What’d you hear?’ Rowan loved gossip, and Meliot always seemed to know things . . .

[Forest Elf]

"Yes, wolves," Gable said. Then grabbied her plate and sat down at the table; facing Primrose and Cela.

"I was up early, just before sunup and I was making my way back to the inn from the road, and there was a pony, being attacked by a wolf. I killed the wolf and brought the pony here. . .but I couldn't find the pony's owner, she still had her saddle on when I saved her, but I couldn't find the owner." Gable said, looking down at her bacon, shame showed on her face for a second before she took a bite of eggs.

"Who ever the pony's owner is, I hope that he or she is ok. . ." Gable said, before taking another bite of bacon.

[Arry]

Will fetched his bucket of tools from the work table at the front of the stable and walked round to the north side of the building. The horses and ponies were all taken care of for now. He’d left the long ladder stored against the wall yesterday after his inspection of the roof. Now he leaned it securely against the edge of the eaves.

A section of shingling had suffered from last winter’s snows, and now in the more constant sun he noted they were beginning to crack. None looked to be cloven clean through, but given time they would be. And that would be bad for the hay stored on the wide platforms beneath the rafters. ‘Can’t have my charges eating moldy hay,’ he’d said as he’d walked carefully along the slanting roof, kicking at suspect shingles with his toes.

In the storage shed near the stable, Will brought out a couple of stacks of wooden shingles tied in manageable bundles with thick twine. He’d made a number of these bundles last autumn with Gable’s assistance from one of the big cedar trees downed by the Longburrow family at the edge of the Green Hills. They’d brought the large log in, in trade for a small barrel of Will’s raspberry ale.

Earlier that morning, Will had heated up a fair sized kettle of tar, and now he dipped out a bucket of it to take up to the roof along with a thick-bristled broom. He balanced the buckets of tools and tar on the two little platforms he’d made yesterday. Just temporary shelves for the job, and one larger one on which to put the stacks of shingles.

Tying a rolled handkerchief about his brow, he began clearing off the broken shingles and a small perimeter about them. Once done he would begin spreading tar on the roof platform below.

But for now, he crawled about on the roof, ripping off shingles and sending them sliding over the edge of the eaves behind him . . .

[Celuien]

Cela was right, of course. There had been no wolves in the Shire since the Fell Winter, when the Brandywine was frozen, and there had been a path into the Shire from the lands outside the Hobbits' comfortable domain. And that was nigh upon 50 years ago. She supposed it was possible that a stray wolf had wandered over the borders. But not likely. Still, Gable had seen - and killed - something. Primrose wished she knew what it was. She hoped Cela was right about its not really being a wolf. Wolves would be an ominous sign indeed.

In any case, Primrose shared Gable's concern for the pony's keeper. "Yes. I hope that no harm has come to anyone. Whatever the source. Wolves or no."

With that, she turned back to Cela.

"You, old?" Primrose laughed. "Never. And I've no doubt you can run things perfectly well. Why, there's no better cook anywhere! Not if you went all the way to Hobbiton. Or Bree!"

Which was Primrose's way of saying that Cela had no equal in all Middle-earth.

"But you know if you needed my help, should things turn busy with the midday travelers, I'd not want to leave you with all the work. Wouldn't be doing my job if I did." She smiled.

Then she added, "Thank you for sparing me today. In more ways than one."

[Dimturiel]

"Why, it's good to see you, Rowan!" Meloit exclaimed. "I meant to come even earlier today, but our Tom's trousers were in such a state! I think some cheese cake and some eggs would do for me, at least for now. And some ale also, if you don't mind. But first stay and chat for a bit."

Meliot always liked a good talk, with anyone that she could have, and on any topic. Trifles, such as the fact that the young Bolgers were stealing fish from Noakes, were to her as fascinating-if not even more- as the news that folk used to bring from the Outside World.

"Why, my goodness!" she cried. "Will those two devils ever learn! Why, last week they were stealing carrots from Mister Boffin's garden, and now they take fish from poor old Noakes. What next, I wonder? And I very much hope that my two brothers are not in league with them. Goodness knows where they are going and what mischief they are doing. "

She spoke as if to show that she was cross, but actually she was mostly amused. And she was still young enough to remember her own expeditions from when she was small. She spent all days with the Hornblower lads and with many others, and they were the terror of all farmers. Why, there was no garden left untouched by their greedy hands.

"Well, they are young," she continued airily, "They'll soon come to their senses. But tell me, what did old Noakes say to those two rascals? I have heard he has a frightful temper. Don't you know, he got into a row right at this inn, a few months ago, with a hobbit from Bree. They had some disagreement over pipeweed."

[Envinyatar]

‘There's cheese and biscuits in the locker at the foot of my bed. The table's a bit cluttered. I was counting out my pay last night. Just sweep the pennies into my leather pouch along with all the others and stuff the bag under my bed.’

Tollers directions caught Jack by surprise. ‘The fellow is very trusting,’ he thought to himself. ‘Telling a stranger he’s just met about his coin. And his room . . . left unlocked!’ Jack shook his head, his eyes narrowing a bit in a considering look. ‘Or maybe he’s shrewder than I thought him . . . Testing me, perhaps.’ Jack tapped his fingers on the table, thinking on how he might like this new opportunity to play out. There could be the quick grab-and-run . . . but he was tired, he admitted to himself. And this was a place where word of him had not preceded his arrival. He wrapped his hands around his mug of ale and considered the problem.

With a last gulp, he drained the mug and made his way to the fireplace and through the entrance to the corridor…

[Undómë]

‘Oh that was a bit of fuss and bother, wasn't it.’ Rowan took a look about the room, and since most of those gathered there were happily engaged in eating and drinking, she pulled out a chair and sat herself down. ‘Old Noakes didn't do much "speaking". He did clout one of the boys on the ear with his stick, so mad was he!’ She leaned her big serving tray on one side of the table, getting it out of the way of the passersby.

Rowan laughed and leaned closer to Meliot. ‘The Bolger boys of course denied to their Ma and Da they’d done anything wrong. But Noakes was there and pulled the hat off Minto’s head to show them the ear.’ She bit her lower lip and shook her head. ‘And don’t you just bet those boys’ hind ends got as red as Minto’s ear after Noakes left!’

One of the Big Folk who’d come in that morning caught her eye. He’d stood up from the table where he and Tollers had been sitting and was walking across the room to the fireplace.

‘Hey! What do you think that fellow is doing?’ Rowan said, pointing to Jack Greymoss as he disappeared into the corridor where everyone’s rooms were . . .

[Folwren]

Dick set down two brimming mugs of ale before two of his guests, smiling his broadest. He turned away from them, wiping his hands on a towel he had picked up on his way. His eyes scanned the people in the common room, making sure everyone had everything they needed. The sweeping gaze stopped on the disappearing figure of a man slinking back through the door into the corridor running into the hill. His smile faded slowly and his eyes narrowed.

Who was that and where did he think he was going? Dick took a few steps forward. In the doorway, Jack turned his head half way over his shoulder to look back. Dick recognized the man in an instant as the one he had served earlier – the rough, tired looking figure. He had sat with Tollers and eaten, more than likely, most of the massive breakfast that young hobbit had brought out. Dick looked quickly about for Tollers, but seeing him now where, decided that he had better go see what the stranger was about.

The innkeeper threaded his way swiftly around the tables and ran the last few paces to the doorway. He stopped just inside for fear of running unexpectedly into the man.

“Hold up, sir!” he called out. “Wait a moment! Where are you going?”

[Tevildo]

Tollers hurried out to the old shed that was attached to the back of the stables, and began dragging a piece of furniture back inside the inn, just as he'd been told to do. There were a number of chairs and tables to be shifted, good sized items that were meant to furnish the rooms rented out to some of the Big Folk.

After just one trip in and out of the inn, he decided he needed a little rest and a break for second breakfast. He immediately plunked down on the ground in front of the Inn, and reached inside his back pocket, taking out a napkin and spreading it on his lap. Reaching into the side pocket of his vest, he took out two fat biscuits, both a bit squashed but still quite edible. As Tollers ate, he hummed a happy tune and glanced intermittently across the road in the direction of the river, calculating the number of hours it would be until he could slip away with Jack to catch some fish.

When he finished the biscuits, he licked his fingers and then leaned back, closed his eyes, and began dreaming about his little boat that was tied up just a short walk down the left riverbank. The sun shone warm onto the hobbit's face and pleasant images of large perch danced magically inside his head. Before long, Tollers was fast asleep, totally quiet except for letting out an occasional snore.

[piosenniel]

‘It’s a long way from the Ford to Breeland. Might I ask what you . . . and your brother, is it . . . are doing on your travels?’ The man's steady grey gaze traveled from Tanni to her brother who was approaching the table.

‘Rhys Hafgen, good sir,’ said the young man, drawing near to where his sister was now sitting. On the small tray the innkeeper had given him he bore a pitcher of ale and a mug . . . for himself. And for Tanni, a small glass of deep, red wine. He topped off the other man’s mug, poured a brimming mugful for himself, and set the wine before his sister. ‘And did my sister manage to introduce herself, yet?’ he went on, seating himself across the table from the man.

‘Tanwen Hafgen,’ she chimed in, nodding at Hithadan. ‘Or Tanni, if you will.’ She took an appreciative sip of her wine, thanking Rhys for getting it for her. ‘Our family owns a large shop, at the Ford. We’re doing our Spring rounds to check in with our suppliers, and to ferret out any new sources of trade goods that we can. This is a busy time of year for us, and we thought by coming here to Stock, we might make a number of fortunate acquaintances . . . it being the big trade fair in these parts, or so we heard.’ Tanni settled her back comfortable against her chair and perused the man. ‘What about you, Master Hithadan . . . are you in the trade, too? Shall we count you as a . . . friendly rival?’ She gave him a disarming smile and sipped a little more of her wine.

Rhys flicked his gaze to Hithadan, wondering what the man might say in response.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot stared after the stranger, curiosity written on every line of her face. He was one of the Big Folk, and that, of course made things seem more intruiging for her. She dismissed all thoughts of a simple explanation, and instead she imagined all sort of dark and secret things that the man might be up to.

"I'd say he's up to no good by the looks of him." She said in answer to Rowan's question. "I simply cannot believe that he is going to spend such a day locked up in his room. That is, if he has a room here."

Meliot was not one of those hobbits that distrusted the Big Folk and suspected all of them of having certain dark intentions in their minds. On the contrary, she was quite fond of them. But still she was inclined not to trust anyone that did things in a way that she found strange. For example, anyone that had in mind to spend such a glorious day locked op in a room, could not possibly be up to anything good.

"There'll come trouble from that fellow, mark my words." she told Rowan. "But who is he, anyway? Do you know him? Where does he come from?"

[Envinyatar]

‘Hold up, sir!’ the innkeeper called out. “Wait a moment! Where are you going?’

Jack froze in his tracks. An advisable thing to do, since in the confines of the Inn and the corridor, there was no hope of his usual mad dash of an escape. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, a shaky attempt at best to calm his nerves.

Now hold on, Jack-boy! he thought to himself. You’ve done nothing wrong. Just turn about and explain to the man what you’re doing.

‘I was just going to lie down for a bit, sir,’ Jack said, turning to face the innkeeper. ‘Tollers lent me the use of his room while he’s working. Said I might catch a few winks. Before we go fishing later.’ He put on as earnest a face as he could assemble for the moment. ‘He said the fishin’s good roundabout here. And we might be able to come back with enough for a tasty fry-up for us all for the evening.’

Jack stood stock-still waiting for the innkeeper’s judgment on this statement. It was the honest truth of the matter. But Jack was wary nonetheless – he’d been questioned enough before to know that the best words can’t overcome perception.

[Undómë]

‘That Tollers!’ Rowan hmmmmph’d ‘Fishing! And how did I just know that would be at the bottom of this with him concerned.’ She snorted, a rather unattractive expression. ‘Sometimes I think the fish he’s after have more brains than he does. I mean, really! Look at that fellow!’ She flicked her eyes toward Jack. ‘To my mind he’s the sort as would rob you blind while he talks smooth and smiles at you.’ She hmmmph’d again.

Rowan turned her gaze to Seredic. She tried to read the look on the innkeeper’s face as he listened to Jack’s explanation.

[Folwren]

Dick listened to Jack’s explanation - surprised, at first, and dumbfounded by the end of it.

“He said the fishin’s good roundabout here,” Jack stated with simplicity. “And we might be able to come back with enough for a tasty fry-up for us all for the evening.”

“Fishing?” Dick ejaculated as soon as Jack became silent. “Fishing! That young scoundrel told you that he’d go off fishing with you this afternoon?” The question didn’t appear to need an answer. Jack said nothing and Dick didn’t either, for a moment. He stood, frowning and gnawing at his lower lip. “So that’s where the lad goes off to all the time. . .fishing. . .I might have guessed,” he grumbled to himself. “Well, see here, Mister,” he went on, addressing the Man, “I don’t see why you should be going to a hobbits’ room to sleep. You wouldn’t fit on Tollers’ bed if it were twice as long as it is now. You come along with me and I’ll show you to another room. Never mind the pay. You certainly look like you need a few winks. We’ll find some way for you to repay me by.

“As for fishing,” he said, still not moving anywhere, “I’ll have to talk to Tollers about that. We’ll see if his work is done and then I’ll decide if he’s going anywhere. Come along, sir.” He turned and began to lead Jack out of the corridor again.

[Folwren]

“What a bright and wonderful day it is!” Lilly Boffin said, her voice just as light and bright as the morning she admired. She pulled the small pinafore over her youngest daughter’s head and buttoned her up the back. “Your Papi is probably hard at work already.”

“Do we get to go see him, Mum?” the little hobbit girl asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on the mattress. “I can’t wait to see him! He’s the inn-lord all by himself!”

“Hardly a lord, my darling,” Lilly responded, placing a hand on her shoulder to make her stand still. She tied the strings in back and then picked up a comb for the curly hair.

“A king then!” the child squealed excitedly. Lilly laughed and didn’t object this time.

“Mum? I can’t get this button done up.” Lilly looked down as the other twin walked towards her. A frown of frustration marred his face as his little, clumsy fingers struggled over and over with an errant button that refused to be shoved through the wrong button hole. Lilly smiled gently.

“Wait a moment, Dorlind. Let me finished Daisy’s hair and then I’ll button you up.” The little chap dropped his hands and crawled up onto the bed. He sat by, his hands folded in his lap as he watched Lilly do up Daisy’s hair. “Once we’re ready, we’ll go over to see your Papi,” Lilly said, combing the last bit of hair. “And we’ll see how everyone at the inn is doing.”

“Mrs. Brandybuck promised me a biscuit with butter and jelly on it!” Daisy said with excitement.

“And same to me, too!” Dorlind cried, his frown forgotten. Lilly nodded as she buttoned him up. He had done nearly everyone incorrectly, so she had to undo almost his entire shirt before buttoning the one he had originally come to her for help on. “Will she still have biscuits, Mum? It’s kinda late.”

“She’ll have biscuits in plenty,” Lilly replied. She picked up her shawl and put it around her shoulders and then gave Dorlind his jacket, and Daisy her little cape. Then she took both their hands and the three went out together.

Their home was situation just beside the inn. Lilly had decided long ago that she didn’t want to raise a family inside the inn itself. Too many strangers and unpredictable characters came through that place. She didn’t like the idea of always having to be careful every time a new face appeared. She spent as much time as she could spare at the inn, sitting in the kitchen or out in the common room, depending who was there and who wasn’t. When she could, she took her knitting and sewing over and traded talk with Cela and Primrose in the kitchen, and sometimes other women at the tables outside. Generally, she did not go in the morning, for there was work at home to be seen to, and the children had to be taught. But this was a special occasion, and those things could be postponed for once.

Lilly led her children around the to side door and entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Cela! Good morning, Primrose!”

Her two youngest chimed in with the merry greeting, accompanying it with broad, unshy smiles. “Hello, Mrs. Brandybuck! Hi, Primrose! Do you have biscuits this morning?”

[Firefoot]

“You’re certainly welcome, Primrose,” said Cela as she took another batch of hot biscuits off the fire. Then the side door opened to admit Lilly, Daisy, and Dorlind Boffin and their chorus of greetings. Grateful for the distraction from Gable’s “wolves,” Cela greeted them warmly. “Good morning to you, Lilly. You’re here early this morning.”

“It’s a special day, after all,” answered Lilly.

“Of course.” Cela turned to the two youngsters. “So it’s biscuits you’re wanting, is it? What if I told you we ate them all, and there weren’t any left for the two of you?” she asked with a completely straight face.

The disappointment on their faces was almost comical. “But Mum said…” Dorlind trailed off as his sister interjected, “But you promised me-” Then she spotted the fresh biscuits sitting on the countertop. “No, you didn’t! I see them, right there!”

“So there are! I guess we didn’t eat all of them after all,” said Cela with a smile, loading some onto a plate for them. “Be careful; they’re hot. Nice and fresh, just for you two. Eat up!”

[Tevildo]

Tollers had eaten too many biscuits and drunk far too much ale for breakfast. His stomach was pleasantly rotund. It was not a good situation to be in when he had just promised to move a whole roomful of furniture before returning to the common room to help serve lunch.

As the sun came blinking out from behind a cloud and the warm rays spilled over Tollers' plump form, the young hobbit instinctively yawned and stretched, plugging his ears with his fingers to shut out the surrounding noise, and then snuggled down into the grass. In the recesses of his mind, he could hear a sharp insistent voice calling his name. It sounded very much like the voice of his father as he sternly berated Tollers at dinner for hitting one of his younger sisters on the head. Never did anyone mention that the lass in question had spent the last ten minutes kicking Tollers under the table. He did not like to be reminded of that, and closed his eyes even more tightly to shut out the glare of the sun. Soon, he was asleep again, and the unpleasant voice receded into the distance

[Forest Elf]

Gable finished the rest of her meal, thoughtfully. Her mind still on the owner, her thoughts swirling around each other, why was the pony saddled, and no owner could be found? What happened to the owner? Who is the owner?

Gable picked up her dirty dishes and placed them with the others, weaving between the young ones to get to the stables; to start her chores. She looked up and saw Will working on the roof.

"Will? Do you need any help up there?" She shouted from the ground.

[Folwren]

Dick showed Jack to a room bright with sunlight. He walked across to the window and closed the shudders, making it far more inviting for tired eyes. “Here you are, sir. Don’t worry about pay. We’ll figure that out later. You look mighty ready for a wink of sleep. Just lay right down and take as long as you like.”

With these words, Dick scurried out the door, shutting it behind him. He had work to do, but first he had to find Tollers. Considering what he had just heard, the boy (for so Dick termed him when he was in such a mood, even if he was of age) had better be doing something useful when he caught up to him.

He wound his way back through the common room, nodding to people as he passed, and then went back into the kitchen. As he strode in through the door his mouth was open to ask Cela and Primrose if they knew anything about Tollers’s whereabouts. He checked the sharp sounding words and stopped short upon seeing his wife and two children.

“Papi!” Daisy and Dorlind squeaked in excitement, around mouthfuls of biscuit. He smiled at them.

“Hello, hello!” he said. Lilly walked over to him and reached up for a kiss. “Hello, dear, what are you doing here this morning?”

“Come to celebrate your first day!” she said. “And the twins wanted Cela’s biscuits this morning. I couldn’t refuse.”

“Well, have a seat and breakfast, then. I’ve got to deal with something and then I’ll be back. Cela,” he went on, looking past his wife at the cook, the smile and merriness fading from his face, “do you know where Tollman is?”

“Why, no,” Cela replied, becoming serious just as quickly as Dick had. She not only noticed his expression but also the use of Tollers’ full name. “Haven’t seen him since he came in for seconds.”

Dick nodded his thanks and walked through the kitchen to the side door and out into the open. He walked to the barn to ask Will if he’d seen the hobbit. He discovered Will on the barn rooftop and Gable standing below him, looking up interested.

“Hello, Gable – Hey, Will!” The two looked at him and said their good morning. “Have either of you seen Tollers?”

[Arry]

Will stood up from the area of the roof he was working on and looked down at Gable and at Master Boffin. ‘Toller’s?’ he asked. ‘Can’t say as I’ve seen him. Sorry.’ He scratched his head trying to recall if the Hobbit in questioned had mentioned what he was doing that day. ‘Nope . . . I don’t even think he said anything this morning about where he was going. Sorry again!’

Gable stood near the innkeeper, listening to the conversation. Will nodded to her, recalling she had asked a question before Master Boffin had come up. ‘Thanks for the offer of help, Gable. But I think I can handle this task on my own. While I’m up here though, can you check on the injured pony? And some of the guests want their horses exercised a little, as they won’t be using them today. Could you please go to the fenced pen where I’ve put the ponies and horses and take some of them out for a little ride – the bay mare, especially. And the merchant from Pincup’s grey dappled pony, too.’

He knelt back down, preparing to start work on the roof again. ‘You might want to check with the other owners . . . see if they want their animals taken out, too.’

[Folwren]

Dick turned away as Will began speaking to Gable about how to manage the horses. He left the barn, knowing that if Tollers were inside, Will probably would know about it. He walked swiftly around the barn and stables. His roving eyes caught sight of the storage shed with its doors open. He trotted forward to see if that could tell him anything. Arriving at the door, he looked in. They stored both wood furniture in here as well as lumber or wood scraps that Will would need to work around the place.

Will would have had to come in here that morning to get the wood for the shingles that he was repairing, but Dick doubted that Will would have left the doors open once he was finished in the shed. He looked about, and then his eyes lit on the furniture. That was it. Tollers was supposed to move some of that today. Well, good, if Tollers was at work now, maybe he wouldn’t be needed in the afternoon after all, and fishing may be alright.

Dick smiled a little and relaxed. He turned and walked back towards the inn, leaving the shed doors open as he had found them. He planned on discussing Tollers’ afternoon activities later, when Tollers wasn’t doing something already.

Dick rounded the front corner of the inn and walked towards the front door. Half way across the lawn he stopped short and nearly tripped over his own foot. There, not seven paces away, lying on one side with both hands up over his ears to block out who knows what sounds, lay the hobbit in question. Tollers - fast asleep, and completely oblivious to his surroundings. Dick was at a loss of what to think. This exceeded all of his hopes or fears of what Tollers might be up to. And considering what he had planned for the afternoon...! The young hobbit had quite a full day planned, didn’t he?

Dick strode forward, neither feeling nor looking very pleasant. He knelt down beside the hobbit and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Tolman Burrows, wake up, fellow,” he said, shaking him. “What do you think you’re doing? Wake up!” He shook him some more and finally Tollers seemed to respond. He grunted and turned over onto his back. “Wake up and explain yourself to me,” Dick said, taking his hand off him, and standing up. He waited, his hands on his hips, hoping, but without much expectations, for a good excuse.

[Tevildo]

Tollers had been floating along in a lovely dream when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and heard a sharp voice demanding an explanation as to why he was sleeping. He tried to shut out the offending noise by putting his fingers in his ears but found that no longer worked. Struggling upright from a prone position, he knucked his eyes and sat cross legged on the ground, turning a sheepish face toward Dick and trying to smile encouragingly.

The Innkeeper still looked unhappy. For one desperate moment, the hobbit considered whether he should make up a story that might get him off the hook. But somehow Tollers did not think the Innkeeper would believe that his server had been unexpectedly called home last night and had returned this morning only after sitting up all night with a sick calf.....to say nothing of the fact that his father did not actually own a single milk cow. Plus, telling a lie simply didn't seem like the right thing to do.

Instead Tollers confessed to the truth but tried to put as good a face on it as possible. Humbly tipping his cap, the hobbit leapt to his feet and explained, "I am so sorry, sir. I started dragging the furniture inside but it seemed to get heavier and heavier every step I took. There was no one else to help, and those biscuits I had this morning lay a bit heavy on my stomach."

He added as an afterthought, "Perhaps you'd best till Cook to lighten up on the flour. All that, plus the sun and a soft patch of grass, were just too tempting. So I stopped a moment and, before you know it, I must have falled asleep. It certainly won't happen again. And if you don't mind sir, I'll get inside and help set the tables for lunch."

[Forest Elf]

"Ok, Will." Gable called upto him. "I'll do that."

Gable walked into the barn, and checked on the pony she had brought in earlier. Gable looked into the stall and smiled, the pony was still asleep, but from how relaxed the pony's look was, she could tell he was having a good dream.

Gable grabbed a halter and put it on the bay mare. Adjusting it so that it would fit snuggly, but not too tight. Then she put the saddle blanket on the horse, and the saddle. She strapped the saddle on and swung up onto the horse in one fluid motion.

Gable clicked her tounge to get the pony to start walking and she rode the bay mare out to the rode. Her thoughts still on the pony's owner, she decided, to look for the owner one more time, just to make sure.

She put the mare into a trot, and reached where the dead wolf had once attacked the pony. The bay mare, upon seeing the wolf, reared.

"Whoa, girl!" Gable said camly and hung on, so she wouldn't to be thrown. "Take it easy, the wolf's not going to hurt you."

The pony calmed down a little and and climbed down, did a quick survey to make sure that there weren't any live wolves hanging about, and climbed back onto the mare. She rode her around the area a bit and then put her into a trot, back to the Inn.

She cooled the pony down, before taking off the bridle, saddle blanket, and the saddle. Then brushed her, until the bay mare's tangled mane was looking smooth again.

[Envinyatar]

‘A friendly rival!’ Hithadan laughed at the very idea he might be thought a tradesman. Most found him a bit to aloof when they met him, stand-offish, even a bit . . . well, scary. The very traits only an unsuccessful businessman would have. He took in a deep breath, his eyes flicking round the familiar room. It was here, really, in this little Inn where he could most relax and be someone who could be called ‘friendly’.

‘Nay, I am no tradesman, nor do I represent some merchant from beyond the Shire.’ He smiled at Tanwen and her brother. ‘Just a traveler . . . a wanderer, really. Do a bit of hunting now and then, as needed.’ He took a drink of his ale, savoring the taste of bitters on his tongue. ‘So, no, my dear lady, I am no rival to you.’

He saw Rhys relax in his chair; his muscles loosen a bit at the welcome answer. Tanwen was already at ease, her slim fingers playing lightly with the stem of her wine glass. She seemed much like a contented gingered cat, he thought. She studied him in a lazy, indolent sort of way, turning her gaze to her glass when his gaze caught hers.

Hithadan turned his attention to Rhys. ‘How long will you be staying at the Perch?’ he asked.

[Undómë]

‘There'll come trouble from that fellow, mark my words.’ Meliot told Rowan. ‘But who is he, anyway? Do you know him? Where does he come from?’

‘Out of the dustbin, if you ask me,’ Rowan said. She was thinking of the nice clean room Master Boffin had just take the man to. Only this morning she’d swept and dusted it. The linen was all clean, too. As was the freshly laundered quilt she’d put on the bed. She cringed at the thought of the dirty man lying down on her clean bed. Would he even appreciate the fact the sheets were nice and soft and smelt of lavender from cook’s garden, she wondered.

She made up her mind to make sure the new ‘guest’ had water and soap with which to clean up and plenty of towels. She’d even see if he would let her launder his clothes. ‘I’m sure there are some clothes in the attic, left by some guest, that might fit the fellow,’ she murmured to herself.

Rowan did not really want to deal with the man by herself. He just looked a little too rough for her. She got up from her chair and turned hopefully to Meliot. ‘You want to come with me? We can see what’s what about him.’ She began to hatch her plan to Meliot. ‘I’ll just bet he’d like a nice hot bath. We can take him down to the washroom, where the tub is and such. Then one of us could keep watch for him, while the other . . . well, sort of ‘tidies’ up in his room. I’m sure he’s up to no good, too.’ She looked expectantly at Meliot. ‘So, what do you say?’

[Dimturiel]

Meliot laughed hearing Rowan's plan. She got up, her eyes blazing with the mirth that was inside her. "Tidying" the man's room! Not a very respectable thing to be done, but in this way the more appealing it was.

"Why, let us go then." she said, her head already full with images of intriguing objects that they could find in that room. She did feel a little uncomfortable, for the man was more than twice her size, and also because she did not like to think what would happen if she were caught prying into a stranger's room. But her inquisitive nature drove all thoughts of fear and humiliation away from her head. She was ready to do anything, if it promised the discovery of something intresting.

"But I have one more question before starting off," she said. "Which of us shall keep guard?"

[Folwren]

Dick stood looking in complete silence at Tollers, wondering what on earth he was going to say. Surely, the lad didn’t deserve any lenience, did he? All the same, Dick couldn’t help but know what Tollers was talking about. What hobbit had honestly never fallen to sleep after a good breakfast? Especially one his age. . .

That was no excuse, Dick told himself, as the silence got longer and longer. Tollers stood before him, looking less and less hopeful. Dick finally made up his mind.

“Look here, Tollers,” he said, only a little sternly. “I ran into your friend in there. He told me you and he were planning on going fishing this afternoon – is that true?”

Tollers looked up at him, and then slowly nodded his head. “We’d talked about it,” he admitted.

“Well, you certainly can’t go fishing when you have a whole roomful of furniture to move. You never mind setting the tables for lunch. There’re others inside who’ll help with that. You move the furniture and then report back to me and I’ll see what can be done when you’re finished. You’d better hurry, too, it’s about lunch time and I would hate to see you miss it.”

Tollers understood the threat in that statement very well. He nodded his head and tugged respectfully at his cap as Dick stepped to the side to allow him to pass. As he walked away, Dick called after him-

“If you do need help with all that, ask Will if he’s available. If not, I may come out and give you a hand myself.”

[Envinyatar]

Jack grinned as he looked about the room the Innkeeper had shown him to. This was so far removed from his recent accommodations, sleeping on the road, that he almost could not take it in.

‘G’wan, me lucky boy! Pinch yourself! Just to make sure.’

He stood stock still in the middle of the little braided rug and turned about the room slowly. He closed his eyes and popped them open once again. And yes, he did give himself a mighty pinch.

But the room was still there; the floor solid under his feet; sunlight filtering through pressed white curtains . . .clean ones! And not just some tattered rags . . ..

‘Step lightly, boyo,’ he warned himself in a low voice. ‘Winds of luck blow one way and then t’other just as quickly.’

He pulled out the chair from the little table that sat by the door and sat down gingerly, still afraid the bubble of fortune would burst and this all prove a dream. The chair held; off came the boots, followed by a pair of very dirty, tattered socks. He stretched out his feet before him, noting the callouses on his heels; the blisters on his toes; and the layers of variegated grime over all. His socks he wadded into a ball and threw on the floor by the chest at the end of the bed. The boots he put near his bed . . . just in case . . .

From his boots he took his leather pouch with its lock-picks and laid it on the table top. His empty leather pouch that hung from his belt was piled alongside it. His knife soon joined it, along with his sling from his pants' pocket and the rocks he’d gathered for it.

He decided to leave on his breeches and his tunic. Never knew when a body needs to exit quickly he'd learned through hard experience. His greasy leather vest with its many pockets was hung haphazardly over the back of the chair, his fingers first taking an account of his possessions there – his one coin in an inner pocket; in another a pretty little gold necklace and a small silver ring set with a light blue stone; a much folded piece of parchment on which were drawn a crude map with an X marked near a twisty-drawn tree by a river were stuffed tightly in yet another. The last pocket held a few more small items of jewelry – a cameo broach, a few loose pearls, and a pair of small gold loop earrings.

His beat up leather pack he didn’t bother to go through. It held only things for living rough. A flint and striker in a small box with some fine wood shavings, stubby candles, a finger line for fishing, some rope and a few other odds and ends. He shoved the pack into a corner and leaned his walking stick against the wall near it.

That bed sure looked inviting. And Jack was walking toward it when he heard voices in the hall and the sounds of feet drawing near his door . . .

[Undómë]

‘I’ll take the towels and get him to the bath room,’ whispered Rowan, motioning for Meliot to follow after her. ‘I know where everything is kept, so I’ll look official and all that.’ She led her companion to the part of the Inn where the Big Folks had their rooms.

‘See that broom there’ she said, pointing to one leaning in the corner of the hall with a dust pan at its feet. ‘You just grab that and look like your doing some sweeping up while I knock on his door.’

Rowan opened the door to the linen closet and fetched out a stack of fluffy towels, a couple of washcloths, and a thin woven blanket. From a basket on the shelf across from the linens she took a fat, fresh bar of oat-soap. And one with a pleasant smell of mint. She was going to grab a plain scented bar, him being a man and all, but she thought he might still smell even if he scrubbed himself clean, and the mint would help overcome it.

‘Now you just sweep and look busy while I pry him from his room. I’ll give you the sign when he’s got into his bath, and you slip into his room real quick. I’ll watch out for his return and give you the high sign.’

Rowan frowned as she looked toward Meliot. ‘Got any ideas what a good signal would be?’

[Dimturiel]

Meliot thought hard. "How about singing a few verses from some song?" she said at length. "Everyone sings arround here when they feel like it, so no one will suspect anything."

She gave the door one last look and then said, taking the broom : "Well, good luck, for both of us."

She watched as Rowan knocked on the door. When it opened, she pretended to be busy sweeping. She hoped that she looked profesional enough, or, at any rate, that her excitement could not be easely seen. She even began humming to herself, in an effort to look believable.

"Please, let him go." she was saying to herself. "Please let him go, and I swear that this will be the last time I do something like this... Or, almost the last", she added hastily, not wanting to make a vow that would rob her of so much amusement.

[Tevildo]

Tollers gave a sigh of relief and, taking out his handkerchief, wiped the perspiration from his brow. Although he was not too keen on being drafted for kitchen duty, it was certainly a better fate than some other punishments the Innkeeper might have imposed. Master Dick had actually been fair. Even Tollers had to admit that falling asleep on the job was probably not the best way to win the approval of the higher-ups.

The hobbit's only real regret was there was no way he could slip off to go fishing in the early afternoon. Perhaps Jack would wait till later in the day. If so, Tollers promised to work very hard to move the furniture and finish all the jobs that Cook would dole out to him. His first project, though, was to get the furniture moved into the Perch.

Taking a peek in the storage room, he could see that several of the pieces were quite large. There was no possible way he could move all this furniture on his own, even if he worked till midnight. Now what has Master Dick said when he left? Tollers scratched his head and sat down for a minute to try and remember. Then it hit him: he was to go to Will and see if he was available to help move the furniture.

Tollers ran around to the backside of the Inn where he could see Will standing and working diligently on the roof. He cupped his hands to his mouth and hallooed up to him. "Master Will, it's me....Tollers. Master Dick wondered if you'd be available to help me move some heavy furniture inside the Perch. Or, if you're not, perhaps you know someone else who could help."

[Envinyatar]

Knock….knock….knock!

Jack started at the series of firm raps. ‘Now who can that be?’ he muttered to himself. A few short steps and he reached the door. His hand hesitated, and he leaned near the door, trying to hear through it. No use, the wood was too thick.

He turned the handle and drew open the door a crack. One of the Hobbit lasses, One who worked here by the look of it. She had a pile of towels in her arms and an expectant smile.

He opened the door just a bit wider. ‘Wotcher want, missy?’ he asked, giving her a considering look.

[Arry]

‘Ah, Tollers!’ Will called down. ‘I really need to get this patch put on the roof. I’ve still got some of the old shingles to pry off and the hot pitch to swab on.’ He swiped the back of his arm across his forehead. The day was getting on, and between the work he was doing and the sun, he had worked up a good sweat.

‘How’s about you ask Gable? She’s got a strong back . . .’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think she’s in the stable. Was out exercising one of the guests’ horses and just brought it in. Tell her she can just put the ponies out in the exercise pen and let them run about while she gives you a hand.’

Will turned back to finish what he was doing, then turned back to look down at Tollers. ‘Ummm . . . that is – you don’t mind having Gable give you a hand, do you? Her being an Elf and a female. She really is quite capable.’

[Undómë]

Rowan felt a cold little shiver move up her spine. He was even rougher looking close up. She took a few steps back, nearly tripping herself on Meliot’s broom.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ she began. ‘But Master Boffin sent me to bring you some nice fresh towels and soap.’ She took a step forward and smiled as prettily as she could. ‘For the bath, that is. Just down the hall here,’ she went on, pointing toward the end of the corridor. ‘He thought you might like one.’ She handed him the towels, balancing the soap on top.

‘And if you’ll just leave your clothes outside the door there, we’ll get them washed for you. It’s wash day here at the Perch.’ She took a few steps in the directions of the bath room, hoping he would follow. ‘And we’ve got a shirt, I’m sure, and some clean trousers you can wear while yours get dry.’ She motioned for him to follow. ‘So just come along and we’ll get the high backed tub filled.’ Rowan stopped for moment and looked him up and down.

‘Do you . . . well, want some bath salts in the water, too?’

[Envinyatar]

‘Bath salts?’ Jack stepped out of his room, a look of curiosity mixed with hesitation. The stack of folded towels unbalanced as he shut the door behind him. And the bar of soap went skittering along the wooden floor. He looked after it but made no effort to go after it.

He glanced for a moment at another Inn worker who was sweeping the floor nearby. She looked harmless enough as did the other one who’d come to his door. Jack was a cautious, no make that, suspicious sort. But these two rang no alarm bells as he studied them.

‘Well, alright then, I guess I do with a bath. Been on the road for a long spell.’ He let the lass who’d brought the towels fetch the truant soap and then motioned for her to lead on.

She filled the tub with hot steaming water and left him a nice large bucket full of clean water to rinse off with. Once she’d left, he doffed his clothes and reaching an arm through the barely opened door, dropped them in a wad on the floor out side the room. Jack locked the door, then perused the bottles of bath salts on the shelf near the tub. He pulled off the cork to each one in succession, giving each a good sniff. Some smelled like flowers, some like herbs.

‘I’ll just try a little of each,’ he said, humming some old tune he’d heard once, slightly off-key. Jack sprinkled a fair handful of each of the containers into the hot water, then climbed into the tub and eased himself down.

It was . . . wonderful! He wriggled his toes in the silky water and leaned back against the backrest of the tub. ‘Oh, I could get used to this!’ he thought to himself. He slid down, dunking his head beneath the water, then resurfaced - grinning . . .

[Undómë]

Rowan heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the man’s arm let go his clothes; then, shut the bath room door tight and latch it. She could hear him humming loudly, an unrecognizable tune. And then came the sound of splashing indicating, she was sure, that he had got into the bath.

She grabbed up his clothes with the tips of her fingers and ran down the hall to where Meliot leaned on the now still broom. ‘Give me a moment,’ she said quietly, though she doubted she could be heard at this distance and through the closed door.

Feet a blur as she ran toward where the washtubs were, she dropped the clothes in the sudsy water, then ran to the attic where the abandoned clothes of former guests were kept. Rowan picked out a serviceable pair of breeches and a clean tunic and hurried back to the bath room. She knocked once on the door, saying she would just leave his clothes on the small table just outside it. Not waiting for an answer, she ran down the hall the Jack’s room.

‘Alright then!’ she said, a bit out of breath from her scurrying. Taking the broom from her friend, she went on. 'I’ll just busy myself down the hall a bit. And when I see him fetch in the clean clothes, I’ll start singing . . .’

[Lilly]

‘You do whittlin', lad? You do seem to have a steady hand.’ Griffo nodded thoughtfully. ‘I bet you could do some pieces like these justice.’

Taffy grinned at the compliment, his cheeks reddening a little with the praise. ‘Well, I think I could do a passable job, sir. Leastways good enough for me and my Granpa to use.’ He picked up the queen and looked at it thoughtfully. ‘You know, if I was real careful, I bet I could put a little head on this sort of one. My Granpa, he can paint really nicely. He could put a pretty face on it, and pretty hair. He stuck his hand deep into his pocket and fished out a small clay whistle in the shape of a fat little robin .

‘See here,’ he said holding out the bright colored whistle. ‘My Granpa made this and painted it for me. If you look real close, you can even see the feathers on it!’

From the opposite pocket, Taffy pulled out something he kept hidden in his fist. He looked about, to make sure his sister was nowhere near and then opened his hand for Griffo to see. It was a small, sleeping kitten, curled up in a ball. Parts of it were still just roughly carved out. ‘This is my newest carving he whispered, moving nearer to the older Hobbit. It’s for my little sister’s birthday. It’s her kitty, Marmalade.’

[piosenniel]

Hithadan turned his attention to Rhys. ‘How long will you be staying at the Perch?’ he asked.

‘Off and on, I think, for about a month or so,’ Rhys replied. ‘We had planned to make it a sort of base for us.’ He glanced toward his sister as she nodded. ‘We’re planning on heading for Breeland and points north and west, too, I think. We’ll need a place to send back samples of our wares to Father. And the river of course, being so near to the Perch, is ideal for that.’ He poured a little more ale in his mug. ‘Now you said you had some news of Bree and the way there. What was it your friend told you?’

‘How about we let Master Hithadan finish his meal, Rhys?’ Tanni said, laying her hand on her brother's arm. She picked up Hithadan's fork and took a small bite. ‘Gah!! It’s cold!’

Tanni motioned for one of the servers to come near. ‘Please, can you bring us all some food.’ She smiled at the server as she handed over Hithadan’s plate. ‘We took him prisoner with our conversation,’ she said in explanation. ‘And I’m afraid the eggs have gone cold.’

[Folwren]

Dick scurried around the common room, fetching people’s used plates and taking more orders for breakfast. Where in the world was Rowan and why wasn’t she helping serving? “I sincerely hope she’s not napping also,” he said to himself as he placed three plates down before Hithadan, Rhys, and Tanni. Aloud, he asked them if they needed anything more. Having gained an answer to the negative, he hurried back to the kitchen.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Rowan, have you? Primrose? Cela?” They both looked at him and shook their heads.

“We can find her, Papi!” the twins said, leaping to their feet.

“Take your plates over, children,” Lilly said, looking at them. She stood by Primrose at the counter, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, helping the girl with lunch. “Then you may go look for her.” Daisy and Dorlind turned obediently and quickly picked up their plates and hurried them over to the sink. They put them down rather unceremoniously (causing both Cela and Dick to wince) and hurried out past their father.

“Come on, let’s look down the hall,” Daisy said, running through towards the door by the fireplace. They scampered down the hobbit sized tunnel, calling Rowan’s name at intervals. Coming to the bottom of the tunnel, they turned around, dumbfounded and fruitless.

“Well, guess she’s not down here. Come on!” Dorlind took the lead in running back up the tunnel. They skidded back out into the common room and came to an abrupt stop as they caught a glance from their father, standing behind the counter looking at some book. They both gave him a sheepish grin and then skirted the wall of the room on tiptoe.

“We’ll find her, don’t worry,” Dorlind whispered, leaning towards Daisy. “Sh-sh-sh. . .quiet now. . .” and slowly they continued their route around the room. They came to the door that led off into the wing of big people’s rooms and quietly slipped into it. Turning away from the door after carefully closing the door behind themselves, they spotted her, sweeping.

“Hi, Rowan!" Daisy called out, waiving, "Papi’s lookin’ for you! What’re you doing?”

[Dimturiel]

As soon as Meliot heard Rowan telling her that she could go, she quickly entered the room and got busy with her searching. The first thing that attracted her attention were two leather pouches on thet table. One, she found to her disappointment to be empty. The other weas full of strange instruments to which she could find no purpose, or, at least no honest purpose.

"Hmph!" she thought, "I knew there was something rotten about him."

Then, she searched a pack that she found in a corner, but she found that it had only what any traveller would carry on a journey. She then turned her attention to a vest that she saw on a chair, and soon Meliot realised that it held the most intriguing things in its pockets.

There was a lot of wonderfull jewelry there, including a silver ring with a blue stone, that Meliot liked the best. "It's stolen, no doubt," she snorted, "If he could afford such things, he would not walk the way he does." Then she found a piece of paper whith an X marked on it. It looked like a map.

"Now I wonder what this means," she cried vocing her thoughts aloud. Without a second thought, she took the paper and hid it in her dress. She then made for the door, sure that her expedition was over, when she heard voices on the corridor. Someone was talking to Rowan. She stopped short, with her heart pounding, wondering what would happen next.

[Tevildo]

Tollers found Gable in the stables just finishing off with her pony. He felt rather shy going up to her. Even though she'd been working with Will for some time, the young hobbit had never said more than a few words to her. Tollers' family, though basically good hearted, was rather quiet and provincial and generally frowned on dealings with Elves or dwarves or anyone who lived differently than they did.

Summoning up all his courage, Tollers approached the young Elf and blundered out his question, "Excuse me now, good miss. I've a heap of furniture to move and would be much obliged if you could give me a hand. It's in the tool shed over there, and Master Dick says I'm to move it into the Inn where the rooms for the Big Folk are. I'm afraid the pieces are a bit large for me, and you seem to be just the size to help on a job like this. Plus, Willy suggested I ask you."

[Firefoot]

Cela was beginning to feel nothing short of sheer exasperation with the younger inn staff. First Tollers, who slipped off more than he ought to anyway, and now Rowan, who despite her love of fun was at least normally reliable when she was supposed to be working.

“You did find Tollers, though?” asked Cela.

“Yes,” answered Dick rather shortly.

“Well, that’s something at least.” Giving the dish she was washing a last hard scrub, she commented to Primrose, “How is it that you’re the only one I’ve given permission to go anywhere, and you’re the only one as is still here? Hmph.”

[Celuien]

"How is it that you're the only one I’ve given permission to go anywhere, and you're the only one as is still here? Hmph."

A merrily laughing Primrose gave her answer. "Because I've not finished the basket for Will yet. And besides, I'd not go until I was sure as work here was finished. But I think it is now." She packed an apple and some cheese into a basket on the table, filling it to the brim. "There. And now, I suppose I'll be leaving too. But not for long." An impish grin and blush appeared with her last words.

"Off with you, then." Cela echoed Primrose's mischievous tone.

Off went Primrose through the door, the basket on her arm.

She came to the stable. "Hello there, Will!" she called up to the roof. "I've brought you your second breakfast. Shall I leave it here, or would you like me to climb up there and bring it to you?"

Primrose had no intention of climbing the roof, but she thought suggesting the climb a good joke.

[Arry]

The cracked shingles had all been removed, along with an additional row about the area. Will had begun the pouring on of the pitchy tar and was just swabbing a section of it onto the cleared area when a familiar voice called up from the ground.

‘I've brought you your second breakfast. Shall I leave it here, or would you like me to climb up there and bring it to you?’

Engrossed as he was in his roofing business, he called back without thinking. ‘Oh, aye! Come on up! And if you would . . . there’s an extra tarring brush just underneath the ladder . . . leaning up against the stable side. Can you bring that up, too?’

He poured another small section of pitch and began working on it. His stomach began grumbling at the promise of food. Thoughts of bread and cheese, he hoped, and some sweet tea to drink pushed him to work at a faster pace.

‘Oh! And mind that fifth step . . . it felt a bit wobbly when I came up . . .’

[Undómë]

‘Hi, Rowan!’ Daisy called out, waving, ‘Papi’s lookin’ for you! What’re you doing?’ Daisy’s little face looked expectantly toward her. And close beside her was Dorlind.

Thorns and thistles! Rowan thought to herself. She put a smile on her face and motioned them closer. ‘You haven’t seen Tollers, have you?’ she asked sweetly, leaning on her broom. ‘He was supposed to have cleaned up in here this morning.’ She sighed, for a bit of dramatic effect. ‘Now he’s left me to see to it.’

Rowan looked down the corridor toward the bath room. The door was still firmly closed and she could hear a bit of splashing…which she hoped meant that the man was simply making himself more comfortable in the tub and not that he was getting out. She cocked her head a bit and listened for any sounds from his room. She heard none. Rowan breathed deep in relief.

‘You know,’ she said, raising her voice enough, she hoped, that Meliot would hear her. ‘I think the floor’s pretty clean now. And Mister Greymoss seems happy in his bath still…’

She leaned her broom against the wall. ‘Why don’t you come with me back to the Common Room. I think I saw a new girl out there with her brother. And she looks just your age.’ She reached down and grabbed a hand each of theirs in hers. ‘Let’s go out and I’ll introduce you…’

[Celuien]

Climb the ladder? Anything but that! Primrose sucked in her breath. She had never climbed so high in her life, kitchen work only requiring her to stand on a chair to reach a high shelf at the most.

But Will's tone told her that he had returned her joke seriously, or at least was daring her to come up. She would go. She wasn't about to give anyone, especially Will, an excuse to tease her. It was just a little ladder. Nothing to be frightened about.

Primrose stooped to pick up the tarring brush. Clutching it in her hand, she looked skyward, steadying her nerves for the climb.

"Here I come, Will," she called, trying to keep a cheerful tone. She took a rung in her free hand, holding Will's basket and the brush in the other, and put one foot on the lowest step.

You're in for it now, Primrose.

Climbing was difficult with only one hand to steady her ascent. Primrose swayed unsteadily on the ladder, precariously inching her way up one rung at a time.

Will called out from above, "Doing alright there?"

"Oh, fine. Be up in half a minute." Primrose lied.

Her hand came to the fifth step. As she grasped it, the rung moved. She hesitated. With all the trouble she'd been having with steady rungs, could she trust one that seemed as uncertain about being on a ladder as she was?

Primrose decided she could. She would hurry over the loose step and there would be an end of it. Besides, if she turned back now, she would feel like a fool. She moved up the ladder and placed her weight on the loose rung. It shifted under her feet, and Primrose lost her balance. With a sudden cry, she fell to the ground.

[Forest Elf]

“Sure, Tollers. I can help you with the furniture.” Gable replied. “Just let me put the brush away first.” Gable put the brush back.

Her mind was still on the pony while she was walking back over to Tollers; the piece of cape, and the wolf. “Tollers, have…um, have you heard of anyone who has lost a pony?” Gable asked casually.

[Arry]

‘You great dumb ox! What were you thinking?’

Will threw down the tarring broom and tore off his gloves, all the while muttering imprecations at himself for saying the owner of ‘the voice’ should come up the ladder. So engrossed was he in his task he hadn’t taken time to consider that it was Prim and she most likely had a basket with food on her arm for him.

‘You ninny!’ he cried aloud, just as he reached the edge of the roof.

He looked down in horror at Prim sprawled on the ground below…along with the ladder…

‘Don’t move! I’m coming! Just hang on!’ he called down in as reassuring a voice as he could. ‘Here…I’ll just swing down to this window frame here and shimmy down the shutter. Used to do it at my Uncle Tam’s barn in Crickhollow…when my cousins and me used to jump from the gable to the new haypile in the yard below…’ He kept up the patter as he eased himself downward, hoping she would make some reply, that she hadn’t been knocked clean out.

Will was just easing himself down the shutter, to the bottom ledge of the window, when he looked down again at Prim. He smiled and waggled his fingers at her, hoping she would wave back.

‘Please let her be alright,’ he whispered under his breath, trying to reassure himself.

First, his foot slipped as his toes reached for the ledge; then, his fingers fumbled as he tried to find a grip. The ground rushed up to meet him as he fell. There was a thud as he hit and a rather sickening crunch as his left wrist tried to cushion his fall, followed by a rather hard knock to his head.

‘Sorry, Prim,’ he said raising his head weakly. ‘Should’na made you climb up…thoughtless…so stupid…’

His voice trailed off as he passed out.

[Celuien]

The world went dark as Primrose hit the ground. After a time, the light struck her eyes, and she was keenly aware of a stabbing pain in her leg, which lay crumpled around the ladder under her body.

Primrose moaned faintly, and then, turning her head to the right, gasped out a half scream. Will was limp on the ground next to her. He must have fallen too, she thought, and bewailed her foolish attempt to climb to ladder.

Primrose reached over to Will's shoulder and shook him.

"Will. Wake up, Will." He didn't.

Frightened, Primrose frantically shouted to anyone who could hear:

"Help! Please, oh, please help!"

[Forest Elf]

Gable’s ears pricked up Primrose’s cry from outside the stables. “Never mind! Primrose needs help, it sounds urgent!” Gable said, turning to the stables door and bursting outside.

She looked around and saw Prim and Will lying on the ground; the ladder fallen over. “Prim, what happened?” Gable asked, observing the scene. Then said, not waiting for an answer, “I’ll get help. Tollers, can you stay here with Primrose and Will?”

She burst into the Golden Perch Inn and shouted, “Prim and Will need help! They fell off, Primrose’s leg looks broke!”

[Tevildo]

All Tollers' thoughts of moving furniture, of finding the owners of lost ponies, and even of spending the afternoon fishing had quietly vanished, at least for the moment. He wasn't sure what to do. The young hobbit had no special skills as a healer, and he hoped that Gable would find someone who did.

But, for right now, Tollers thought the best thing he could do would be to calm everyone down. First, he glanced over at Will to make sure he was still breathing. Then he took Primrose's hand in his and gently began reassuring her. "'Tis all right, Miz Primrose. Help is coming. Gable's gone to get someone. They'll have you patched up straight away, and you'll be back cooking those nice little pastries. And don't you worry your head about Will. He's just winded, I do believe. Nothin' more serious than that. He'll be up and about in no time." Tollers decided he'd better not mention that Will's left wrist was not looking too good as this would only give the injured lass even more to worry about.

Instead, he squeezed Primrose's hand ever tighter and talked reassuringly. "I hope your leg doesn't hurt too much. You are a brave, brave lass to wait here quietly and scarcely be making any fuss at all. If it was me, I'd be fussing and fuming and screeching so that every hobbit from here to Brandy Hall would think that the Marish had been invaded by wicked goblins."

Tollers was absolutely calm and encouraging on the outside, but on the inside he was gradually beginning to panic......

Gable had better hurry. I'm completely useless at things like this. Prim can be a hard nosed lass, but I would hate to see her hurt, and poor Master Will is looking rather green. Plus, if Prim can't do her work in the kitchen tonight, I'm apt to be spending a good deal longer there than even Master Dick expected or wanted.

With that sobering realization, Tollers rolled his eyes sideways and peered frantically at the front door of the Perch, hoping that someone would soon materialize and come to help.

[Celuien]

Primrose squeezed Tollers' fingers. He told her not to worry about Will, but she couldn't help it. He still hadn't stirred, and she noticed that his wrist was beginning to look swollen.

"I have to worry. Will's hurt. Look at his wrist. And he's not woken up yet." Primrose's lip began to quiver. "And if he's hurt badly, I'll never forgive myself. I ought never to have gone up that fool ladder in the first place. This is my fault."

A single tear escaped her, and she took Will's good hand in her free one. "I'm sorry, Will," she whispered.

[Folwren]

“I’m surprised that things are so crazy today,” Lilly was saying to Cela. “Generally, Dick is always talking about how well things run here at the inn. I mean-”

At that moment, she was interrupted as Gable burst into the kitchen. She looked wild and excited. “Prim and Will need help!” she panted. “They fell off, Primrose’s leg looks broken!”

Lilly started up to her feet in alarm, and Cela dropped her spoon. It clattered the floor, splattering sticky egg in every direction two or three feet. “You stay here, Cela,” Lilly said, quickly coming forward. “You need to be in here. Gable, go tell Dick.” She passed the young elf quickly and ran from the door to the barn. She saw them immediately - Tollers sitting on the ground, holding Primrose’s hand. Primose and Will lay side be side on the ground, the ladder between them.

Tollers lifted his head as she approached. “Mrs. Boffin, she’s hurt and Will’s not woke up yet!”

Lilly knelt quickly by Primrose’s head. She saw the tears flowing down the hobbit’s face and she gently brushed them away. “It’s alright, Prim,” she said gently, speaking to her as she would a crying child. “You’ll be fine. Your leg is caught in the ladder. We’re going to move it, will you be alright?” Primose nodded, a grimace passing briefly over her face. Lilly smiled encouragingly and caressed her hair slightly once more. “Hold on, now,” she whispered, and then stood up.

“Come here, Tollers,” she said, standing up and walking about to the ladder. She knelt again, this time at Primrose’s foot, and pushed her sleeves up until the cuffs grew tight on her forearm. Tollers came about and stood waiting. “Hold onto the ladder and when I tell you to, lift it up and move it out of the way. First, though, I have to figure out just how this leg is situated. . .” her voice faded off to a low mumble and she looked carefully at the situation.

Before she had quite decided how it would be best fixed, footsteps coming from the inn told her more help was one the way. She looked up as Dick came to a hurried stop before them. “What happened? What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Don’t know what happened, but we’ve got to get these two fixed up before we find out,” Lilly answered. “Don’t get excited, Dick. Help me here. Tollers, get ready.”

With gentle hands, the couple gently moved Primrose’s leg away from the ladder. Tollers picked it up and moved it away several paces. “It’s broken, alright,” Dick said, sitting back with a sigh. He looked at Primrose and then at Will. “Now, what about him? Knocked out, is he? Tollers, go get a bucket of water. That should rouse him.”

“Why, Dick, that’s a little rough, isn’t it?” Lilly asked. She got up and went to Will. He lay half on his face and half on his side, one hand braced against the ground as though he had fallen on it. He probably had, and goodness knows what he did to the wrist or elbow. She turned him over onto his back and felt the joint. A moan told her he would come around in a moment. Water would not be necessary.

[Firefoot]

Cela, waiting a little while after Lilly dashed out of the kitchen, had made a few cursory attempts at cleaning up the egg that had splattered over the floor and at continuing her cooking, but after a few minutes gave it up. So help me if I’m going to stay here while Prim and Will are out there injured… After glancing around to make sure nothing would burn if she was out for a little bit, she, too, headed out the kitchen door.

Her worry escalated rather than eased as she took in the sight. “Are they all right? What happened?” she called out, hurrying over as quickly as she could.

Lilly wisely did not say anything about Cela’s abandoning of the kitchen. “They will be. Primrose has broken her leg, and Will’s just starting to come around – he seems to have knocked his head. His wrist looks broken, too,” she explained quickly from her position beside Will.

“Well, the next step seems to be to get them inside so they can be treated…” said Cela. “If Will comes around soon, perhaps we won’t have to carry him.” She knelt down next to Primrose and asked, “If you leaned on us, do you think you could make it inside?”

“I… I think so,” said Primrose.

Cela smiled. “There’s a good lass.” She glanced over to Tollers, who was standing nearby and apparently at a loss for what to do. “Tollers, come here. We’re going to get Primrose moved into the kitchen...”

[Arry]

There were voices, loud voices that penetrated the thick grey cloud enshrouding his head. He lay quietly trying to sort them out. Tollers, he thought. And Master Boffin. And another, now, giving direction.

‘Tollers, come here. We’re going to get Primrose moved into the kitchen...’

Primrose!

Will struggled out of the foggy soup of his thoughts. His left arm hurt like crazy, as did his head now, he realized. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his head spinning wildly at the sudden movement. Will's stomach revolted at the movement and he promptly threw up.

‘Just get her in to the Perch. I’ll get myself in.’ He leveraged himself up to his knees. ‘It’s all my fault, really...that she’s hurt.’ There were bright stars of light that seemed to explode inside his head and little holes of darkness that threatened to dim his vision altogether. Will got to his feet and leaned against the wall of the stable. He cradled his left arm against his chest, fighting down the urge to cry out with the pain.

‘See to Prim; I’ll be alright,’ he rasped out in an unsteady voice. Will took a few unsteady steps in what he hoped was the direction of the kitchen door.

[Folwren]

Dick and Tollers helped Primrose to her feet and then guided her arms around Tollers’ neck and Cela’s. Between them, she limped inside, Lilly coming after them. Dick turned to Will who had struggled up to his feet, looking ill and disoriented. More than anything, Dick wanted to find out what had happened, but it was instantly clear to him that it would do little good asking Will just now.

“See to Prim; I’ll be alright,” Will said. Dick stepped closer as the young hobbit took a couple unsteady steps forward. He held his arm up against his chest and his face was twisted with pain. Dick set a steadying hand on the lad’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, Will, she’s in good hands. You need help, too, you know. You don’t think I’d leave you here alone, do you? Now just hold on a minute until you get your bearings a’right. . .how do you feel, Will? Can you see alright? And your arm hurts, doesn’t it? You must’ve taken a nasty fall. Easy does it, lad,” he found himself speaking to him like he would one of his own boys. Will’s walking was unsteady and more and more Dick saw that if his arm was in pain, it was in a lot of pain. “Sit down for a moment, Will,” he said, deciding it’d be better to stop before he fell again. “You just wait. I’ll get some water for you and then maybe some ice for your arm, at least to numb the pain until a healer gets here. Will you sit?”

[Arry]

The sound of the Innkeepers voice kept hammering at him; ratcheting up his headache yet another notch. Will held out his right hand, palm forward, shaking it a little as if to say ‘enough’.

‘Sit down for a moment, Will.’ He heard Master Boffin say. Will was about to say, ‘no’; that he would make it to the inn on his own. But his legs betrayed him; folding beneath him like two great, limp noodles. He sat down hard on his hind end, sending a stream of stars caroming behind his eyes.

‘Water, yes,’ he managed in response to the innkeeper’s offer. ‘I’ll just wait right here…’

[Folwren]

Dick hurried off towards the kitchen door as fast as his legs could carry him. When he entered, he found Primrose sitting beside the table, her leg sticking out in front of her, twisted to one side. It was definitely broken. Cela, Lilly, and Tollers stood about, looking as though they didn’t quite know what to do.

“Tollers, run off and get Mr. Torbias, down Willow Grove. Cela, do you have anything that will ease pain? Lilly, you go find Rowan. There are still people outside there who don’t know what’s going on and don’t need it explained to them - they just need to be served. Will is outside, I’m getting him water. In a moment, he’ll able enough to come inside.”

He filled a cup while speaking and then headed for the door again. Outside, he poked his head back within. “Cela, ice would probably be a good thing if you have any on hand. . .at least for Will. I don’t know if the arm or wrist is broken or what.” He hurried on back to Will. Kneeling beside him, he reached for his right hand (the uninjured one), and pressed the cup into it. “Here you go, Will,” he said, softening his voice. “Take it easy. Tell me when you can walk and I’ll help you inside.”

--------

Lilly Finds Rowan

Lilly went out of the kitchen and into the Common Room in search of Rowan. To her surprise, she saw her there, but leaving it, going back towards the Big People part of the inn. A sharp glance around showed her that her two youngest were speaking with a hobbit lass no older than they. She didn’t recognize the girl, but she didn’t mind. She did wonder, however, how they suddenly got into a conversation with her when they had originally gone off in search of Rowan.

Her eyes darted back towards Rowan just in time to see her disappear through the door. Lilly quickly crossed the room and followed her. She called her name as she came through the door. Rowan turned towards her quickly, a look of surprise on her face.

“Come along, girl, what are you doing?” Lilly asked, only a little sharply. “Dick’s in sore need of you this morning and you seem to be no where to be found!”

[Forest Elf]

Gable was in the corner of the kitchen, looking at everyone else who was busy helping out, making her feel useless. Her thoughts on the pony had vanished and turned into worry for Will and Primrose.

“Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?” Gable asked, hoping not to be left watching from the sidelines. She took a step away from the corner. That’s all she was allowed to do when she was little and her parents were dying, to stand in the corner, hoping everything would be ok and knowing the graveness of the situation…

[Undómë]

‘Come along, girl, what are you doing?’ Lilly asked, only a little sharply. The older woman went on to say she was needed, with the firm implication that she meant NOW.

Rowan was about to protest that she was seeing to a guest Master Boffin, himself, had taken to a room, but the look on Lily’s face was daunting. Hmmmm… this was something more than just not having workers where they were supposed to be.

‘Right, then,’ Rowan said instead, following Lily out to the Common Room. She picked up one of the large empty trays leaning against the wall. ‘I’ll just start picking up the empty plates and such. Taking orders as I go along.’

She tucked a towel from behind the bar into the pocket of her apron and putting a welcoming smile on her face, began to make the rounds of the room.

[Durelin]

Griffo smiled as the boy showed great pleasure at the compliment, and then, with a red face, showed the humility that every well-raised child, in the gaffer’s opinion, should have. When little Taffy started talking about his grandfather, though, it became a little more difficult for the old Hobbit to keep a smile on his face. It had been a long while since he had any children to bounce on his knee. Those of his children who had children of their own now were far too great a distance away to really know their grandpa. And because of that, whenever they visited grandpa or he visited them, they preferred hiding beyond their mummy or daddy’s leg.

Taffy began showing Griffo different prized items, and the gaffer was amazed by the amount of energy the young boy had. It really had been a long time since he had spent time with a child who wasn’t yet so worried with becoming an adult that they slowed things down for an older person. The white-haired gaffer was very taken with the whistle, impressed by the detail. Now there was a Hobbit who had not forgotten the many secrets of the trade. Griffo was pleased that these things were seemingly being passed down to Taffy.

When the boy told him about the tiny carving of the cat, the gaffer once again broke into a smile. It was a beautiful and incredibly sweet gift. “Now there’s a beautiful thing,” Griffo whispered back, gladly maintaining the air of secrecy. “You’re a good lad, making such a thing for your sister. And I know she’ll prize that gift above all else.”

Drawing his eyes up from the visage of the kitten, Griffo waved a finger at the boy playfully. “And you go ahead and tell her for me that she has a gorgeous animal there.”

Enjoying the conversation with the boy, and not wanting it to end, the gaffer asked the boy another question. “What about you, you have any pets of your own?” Griffo knew that everyone loved talking about themselves, not least of all children – especially ones like Taffy.

[Firefoot]

As soon as Dick had mentioned finding something to ease pain, Cela had set about brewing a strong tea that, while not particularly tasty, certainly worked well as a pain reliever. “And ice,” she murmured to herself as she set the tea to boiling. She was just about to head down into the cellar when Gable stepped forward, “Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?”

Cela momentarily considered sending her down to the cellar to find the ice, then realized that the ceiling would be too low down there for the Elf. It would probably take too long for her to find it, anyhow. And the tea didn’t really need to be watched; it wouldn’t boil for another several minutes. What Primrose and Will would really need was more space – the kitchen was starting to feel downright crowded. An idea struck her. “Actually, yes. Someone needs to go down the road to fetch Doc Puddifoot. Just tell him that Primrose will need her leg splinted, and Will’s arm and head need to be looked at. You know the place?” Gable nodded. “Good. Go there now.” Cela turned to Tollers. “You can go back to whatever it was you were doing. Somebody will let you know if you’re needed.”

With that, she disappeared down into the cellar, going straight to the far wall where a sealed ice box was kept. Keeping it open for as short a time as possible, she took a couple blocks of ice and carried them upstairs in a bucket stationed by the box. There, she wrapped them in a clean rag for Will when he came in. As she worked, she was finally able to ask, “Now, Primrose, what exactly happened out there?”

[Celuien]

Primrose had been sitting by the table and trying very hard not to look at her twisted leg. It hurt terribly, but she was more concerned about Will. Her leg was broken. But Will had hit his head and wasn't quite right yet as far as she could tell as he stumbled unsteadily in the yard. She blamed herself entirely and tried to focus on ways to make her error up to him. The hobbit lass tearfully thought to herself that if Will were hurt badly, she never could do enough to make things right. Fear and worry for him drove the stabbing ache in her leg from her mind, replacing it with a gnawing pain of a different kind centered near a lump in her throat.

The inn staff hurried through the kitchen, seeing what they could do the help the injured pair. Primrose was now numb with worry, no longer crying, failing to notice her friends in her distraction. Cela began to say something that ended in, "What exactly happened out there?" That brought her attention back, along with a rush of tears.

"Oh, Cela! It was all my fault! I'm such a fool."

Cela stared at her, puzzled. "Now, slow down Primrose. One thing at a time before you blame yourself. What happened?"

Primrose brought her eyes to meet Cela's, struggling to calm herself enough to tell the story. "I went out with the basket," she began. "Will was on the roof. I asked if he wanted me to bring the basket up to him, just as a joke. But he said I should take it up and bring him a tarring brush while I was at it. And he wasn't joking." Prim's voice went up a tone as she spoke. "So I went up - or tried. I ought never to have done it. I've never been on a ladder before. And especially not after Will told me there was a loose rung. I put my foot on the loose one and slipped. I fell and the next thing I remember, Will was lying on the ground next to me. He must have heard me fall and tried to come down after me, only the ladder was down too so he didn't make it down." She trembled softly and, ignoring the tears that now fell rapidly down her cheeks, pulled at her hair.

"Cela, how's Will? He didn't look right when they brought me in here. He's hurt worse than me. Everyone ought to be seeing to him, not me."

[Forest Elf]

Gable nodded and went quickly out the door. She grabbed one of the stallions that still needed his exercise for the day and saddled and bridled him, quickly.

She jumped into the saddle in one fluid movement and tapped her heals into his sides. She let him run as fast as he pleased, not letting him outdo himself on the way. Once she was there she jumped down from the horse and strode up to the door. She knocked several times and waited for an answer, but none came.

She walked over to his neighbors and knocked on the door. “Hello?” a young hobbit asked, answering the door. She looked to be about 12 and her curly hair was bouncing in the wind.

“Do you know where Doc Puddifoot is? I need to find him, quickly. Primrose’s leg looks broken and Will’s head and wrist need checked.” Gable told the young hobbit.

“Yes, I do know where he is. He said he’d be off to the market for a bit and he might visit an old friend too while he’s at it,” the young hobbit replied.

“Thank you!” Gable called and ran to the stallion. She jumped up into the saddle and sent him off in the direction towards the market. She did a quick scan and couldn’t find him. She put the stallion in a slight canter and called out, “Doc Puddifoot?”

“I’m over here,” he called from the fruit stand. “What is it?”

“We need you at the Inn. Primrose’s leg needs set and Will’s head and wrist need’s looked at. They fell off of a roof, well, Primrose fell off of the ladder and Will fell off of the roof, but anyways, details later. Get on.” Gable told the Doc.

She put the stallion into a gallop and turned the stallion back to the Inn. Once there, she drew him to a halt and set the hobbit onto the ground, where he scurried inside.

She cooled the stallion down and put him back into his stall. She put away the saddle, bridle, and saddle blanket. Then she hurried into the Inn, to see how everything’s going.

[Arry]

By the time Master Puddifoot arrived the innkeeper had helped Will into the kitchen and to a chair. Will’s head had cleared just a little, save for the pounding headache. He sat forward on the seat, his left arm resting gingerly on the table top. The ice that Cela had placed on each side of his wrist had blocked the pain for the most part; that is, unless he tried to move his hand at all, even as little as wiggling his fingers.

‘My wrist will hold for now,’ Will said as the healer entered the kitchen. He waved Master Puddifoot and the others toward Primrose. ‘She needs to be seen to first.’ He shook his head bringing on a small shower of stars and pain within. ‘It’s my fault she even tried to climb up the blasted ladder. I wasn’t thinking; didn’t stop to think it was her who was calling up to me. You get her fixed up and comfortable…then come see to me…’

Will twisted in his chair and reached across the table with his right arm. He patted Prim softly on the back of her hand and gave her a chagrined smile. 'I'm so sorry this happened to you, Prim. You be a brave lass, now. You'll get all fixed up and be better soon, won't she Master Puddifoot?'

Please! he said to himself. Please, let it be so.

[Firefoot]

“I should say so. Give it time, and the leg ought to be good as new,” Master Puddifoot said, as he finished examining Primrose’s leg. He appeared completely oblivious to the interplay between Primrose and Will, but the same certainly could not be said of Cela. “Nothing more than a bumped head and hurt wrist,” she had assured Primrose. “Dick said he was up and moving. Don’t fret yourself over it, and don’t blame yourself either.” Indeed, it seemed to Cela that a bump on the head seemed to be just the thing Will needed to wake him up a bit as she watched him pat Primrose on the back of her hand and watch the doctor care for her rather anxiously.

Then the tea began to boil, and Cela quickly took it off the fire and poured two steaming cups. “Here, drink these,” she told Prim and Will. “It won’t taste great, but it will ease the pain.” They gratefully accepted the cups as the doctor began to speak again.

“Now,” he told Primrose, “This will probably hurt a bit, but the leg’s got to be straight so I can splint it, otherwise the bone will heal crooked.” Even to Cela, who was only watching, the process of setting the broken bone straight looked exceedingly painful, if mercifully short.

Gable chose that moment to reappear in the kitchen, and Cela gently shooed her out, telling her, “The doctor’s got it all under control now; Will and Primrose will be fine. You can go back to whatever you were doing before, and if we need you for anything, we’ll let you know.”

As the kitchen door swung shut behind Gable, Cela realized with some alarm that she ought to be following her own advice: noon was fast approaching, and lunch wasn’t near ready! She quickly set to her cooking: cheese and fruit and bread to be readied, soup to be made – but all while still keeping half an eye on Primrose and Will.

[Envinyatar]

Jack eased himself out of the tub with a decidedly reluctant sigh. The tips of his fingers had gone all ‘pruney’ and the water had gone a bit cold, but if he could have, he would have stayed happily immersed in the fragrant waters for…well…forever, he thought. He’d never before had such a bath. A dip in some cold lake or squatted down by the edge of some colder stream had been good enough for him until now.

But now he’d crossed the line from utility to luxury. And he found he had no desire to go back.

He wrapped one of the thick towels about him and with another began to dry his hair. There was a small mirror in the room, steamed up of course from his bath, which he wiped clean with a few swipes of the towel corner. Jack tilted his head this way and that, considering his cleaned up face in it.

‘In for a copper penny, in for a silver,’ he said aloud as he picked up the straight razor and lathering brush on the small shelf by the mirror. Clean, then, and clean shaven, too, he walked to the door and opened it a crack, reaching out with his long arm to pluck up the bundle of clean clothes the server girl had left.

He dressed quickly and ran the comb he found through his thin, sandy hair, pushing it back in as neat a manner as he could behind his ears. With a light step, Jack went out the door, whistling a merry tune quite loudly. A notable fragrance of bathsalts trailed behind him.

Down the hall, he noted someone was just going out the door to the common room. One of the servers, he thought. He passed by his room, not feeling a bit tired anymore and went back out to the big room himself.

‘Maybe I can find Tollers and give him a hand with his chores,’ he said to himself. ‘Then we can go fishin’ sooner.’ He looked about the common room, wondering where the fellow had got off to.

[Celuien]

If Primrose's leg had painful before, the process of setting the bones back into place was twice as bad. Her jaw clamped down tightly and she stiffened in the few seconds that Master Puddifoot took to put her twisted leg into normal alignment. Just a few seconds, and it was over. He wrapped her leg against straight planks of wood to keep it in place. Already, she was beginning to feel more comfortable.

At any rate, Will seemed better. She managed a soft smile in response to his hand against the back of hers. "I'm fine, Will. Really. It's just my leg, and Doc Puddifoot's taken care of that." The smile faded for a moment. It's my fault she even tried to climb up the blasted ladder. "It's not your fault at all. It's mine. I shouldn't have joked about coming up the ladder. I'd no business to. And now you're hurt." Her voice quivered on the last word. "I'm sorry."

Primrose took another sip of tea, half watching and half trying not to watch Doc Puddifoot winding the splint bandage around her leg. As soon as the last wrap of the bandage tightened above her knee, she asked him, "How's Will's wrist? And he took a nasty bump on the head too."

He bent Will's wrist and fingers, causing the ostler to wince. Primrose couldn't help wincing with him in sympathy. One finger was broken, but the wrist was only badly sprained. Next, Master Puddifoot ran his hand over the growing bump on the side of Will's head. Just a bump. Nothing serious. Primrose sighed in relief as Will's hand was treated in much the same way that her leg had been.

"There you are. That hand ought to be as fine as Prim's leg in no time at all. Just give it a few weeks rest and don't try climbing any more ladders for a while." For Primrose, at least, that last warning was hardly necessary.

Suddenly, as relief spilled over her, Primrose laughed merrily. "A fine pair we make, Master Will, with your hand and my leg. We're practically mirror images."

Cela was already starting the soup. Work. Primrose thought she'd better get back to it now that Will was seen to. "Cela, please hand me those carrots and potatoes. My leg may be broken, but I can still chop vegetables for the soup."

[Lilly]

‘What about you, you have any pets of your own?’

Taffy sighed and skewed his mouth to one side. It was rather a sore point with him, the one about having pets. His sister had her kitten, His older brothers had their dogs. Working dogs, but companions nonetheless, of the animal variety. ‘Well, you know, I had a pet of sorts once, but my mother made me get rid of it.’

He stuffed the carving of the cat deep in his breeches pocket, seeing his sister and the new little friends she’d made looking his way. The three children turned back to whatever they had been doing and Taffy turned his attention back to Griffo.

He leaned his elbows on the table top and rested his chin in his hands. ‘I found a little weasel one time; abandoned in the field where we were running the goats to pasture. It was nice and soft and had a little pink nose. I waited and waited to see if its mama would come back, but she never did.’ He looked up at Griffo for confirmation of his reasoning. ‘I figured it was a orphan, you know.’ He drew his finger through a little puddle of water on the table. ‘Anyways, the little scamp, and that’s what I called him, too, ‘Scamp’, he wasn’t too good at remembering rules. He got into the henhouse and ate the eggs one too many times Mami said. And so she said he had to go. My Da took him out and let him go somewhere far away.’

Taffy sighed again. ‘Now she says we don’t need any more animals cluttering up the house. And it’s just not fair. Seren’s got Marmalade, and my brothers have their dogs.’ He furrowed his little brow and shook his head. ‘I’d really like to have some little pal of my own.’

Before Griffo could comment on the state of the young man’s pet-lessness, Lila Sandybanks called out her son’s name. ‘Taffy!’ She motioned him over. ‘Come help me move the chest and carpet-bags in the room, son. I want to get out our night clothes and the outfits for tomorrow need to be hung up.’

‘Just one second, Mother!’ Taffy ran back to Griffo’s table to say good-bye. ‘At least for now, Master Tunnelly. I have to help my ma do some things.’ He started back toward his mother, waving to Griffo as he did so. ‘Maybe we can play a game after lunch!’ He turned and ran toward his mother. ‘I’m coming!’

[Folwren]

The hours passed quickly and everyone was busy at the Perch. Over night guests took their leave, more people came, lunch was served, and more people left. Dick worked away as cheerfully as he could, considering the circumstances. Rowan, thankfully, didn’t disappear again, at least when the place was busy. Tollers finished moving the furniture and helped in the kitchen. Primose was in the kitchen, too. She refused to be moved. Said she could work just fine sitting down. Dick highly doubt it, personally, and would see that she was carried off to her room early that evening.

But for now, it was far too early to consider such things. The afternoon was only half spent. Voices came murmuring through the kitchen door from the common room as he sat down and put his tired feet onto another chair. They were all served and he hoped that they would be satisfied for at least ten minutes.

“Here, Cella, hand me a cup of some of that fresh brewed tea, please,” he said. “Heavens, I wasn’t expecting this first day of opening to be so busy. Thanks you,” he added, as Cella set the steaming cup before him. He picked up the spoon she had provided and stirred absently. “Primrose, how are you holding out? Are you tired yet?”

[Celuien]

A wooden platter rested next to Primrose's arm, laden with neatly chopped potatoes, carrots, celery, and other vegetables for the next meal. She chopped away furiously, hoping to distract herself from her still aching leg by working.

"Primrose, how are you holding out? Are you tired yet?"

The knife stopped clattering against its cutting board. Primrose placed it at the edge of her piled work and thoughtfully took a sip of tea before answering. She was tired. Dreadfully tired, in fact, from the triple strain of the fall, fighting against pain, and her earlier (and still not completely resolved, though she wasn't sure why) worry for Will. But the only way Primrose thought she could stop herself from collapsing into tears and sleep was to keep working. At least until evening, when she could retreat to her room and, free from prying eyes, allow her exhaustion to show. But not now.

"Tired? I don't know. I suppose I'm no more tired than could be expected. Leastways, I'm not tired enough to drop my work when there's still something I could be doing here." She took another sip of the tea and smiled, only a droop at the corner of her eye and a slight faintness to the smile betraying her true weariness.

[Tevildo]

Tollers hung up his dishcloth and grinned broadly at Jack. "Thanks so much for your help. I couldn't have gotten through all these dishes without you lending a hand." Privately, Tollers was wondering if Jack had ever before helped in a kitchen. He had been awkward washing and drying the dishes and seemed confused when Cook had barked at them to go fetch her some special spices from the cellar.

Despite this, Tollers was extremely grateful to be finished with work and heading down to the river. "Well, what'll it be? Want to throw a line in off the bank, or would you rather take out my boat? It's just a short walk down the riverbank. The hobbit pushed open the gate and trotted across the roadway in the direction of the little tributary of the Brandywine that ran near the Inn.

[Envinyatar]

Jack folded up his dishtowel and hung it back on the rack where he’d gotten it. They were a neat and tidy lot, these Perch Hobbits, he surmised, looking about the kitchen. His glance fell on the cook, and he quickly lowered his eyes, hoping she had not noticed.

The woman scared him. Now that was the plain truth of it. She’d barked out orders at him as if he were some shave-tail mule needing to be broke in to harness. And well, he s’posed he was one, having never actually helped out in a kitchen before. But he’d done alright, he thought. Only one dish dropped when he was drying it. And how was he to know the tableware had their own little compartments . . . forks here, spoons there, knives there. He thought it quite amazing there was a drawer to keep them in in the first place, never mind the organizing of it.

Ah, well, he supposed he’d learn . . .

Now where had that thought come from? He shivered at the ridiculousness of it. He never stayed long enough anywhere to learn anything but where the good silver was kept, or the coin. Still, he had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy the camaraderie of those at the Perch. No one, at least to his face at any rate, had made an assumption he was up to no good. They kept offering him the chance to act like he was a normal sort of fellow, expecting he would do so. Make the right choice, act honest, help out before you help yourself. Have mercy! Just thinking about all this stuff was beginning to make his head ache.

‘Let’s take out the boat,’ Jack said, following Tollers out of the kitchen and through the yard. ‘I’ve a mind to do a little drifting on the Brandywine. Opportunity to try out a number of pools, eh?’ Clear my head, too he thought to himself.

‘So, what sort of pole do you favor?’ Jack asked as they crossed the road and headed down to the river. ‘Best one I ever had was one made of ash wood. Real light it was and had a good bend to it when a fish pulled on it. Used it to fish in the ponds back home. Big old perch there, hiding in the shadows and the root tangles of the willows what grew along the banks. But man, let me tell you those fish loved grasshoppers. And all I’d have to do was twitch one on the water surface, and those greedy fish would rise to it every time!’ Jack laughed at the recollection.

‘How bout the Brandywine? Never really fished it much down thisaway. What do they favor down here, these trout of yours?’

[Arry]

Will set his own mug of tea down carefully on the table. The herbs that Mistress Brandybuck had put in the concoction had gone a long way to ease his pain. But there was still a persistent dull ache that beat at his temples. And try as he might he could not find a comfortable position for his arm. His wrist ached and his broken finger, though well splinted, was beginning to pain him more and more.

Primrose seemed to be keeping up a brave front. There was a decided droop at the corner of her eye and a slight faintness to the smile which betrayed her true weariness. He watched her as she paused in her vegetable chopping to drink some more from her mug of tea.

He scooted to the edge of his chair, pushing his mug away from him as he did so. ‘You know, one of my brother’s broke his leg once. Fell out of a tree. The healer told him he’d heal faster if he rested as much as he could and didn’t move that leg’s bones around too much.’ He pursed his lips as if considering something and how to say it.

‘Now I know what you do is probably none of my business, Prim. But I am tired and hurting and somehow I just don’t think it right to leave you here while I go off to lay down for a bit. It would ease my mind no end if I knew you were resting, too. What do you say if we both go have a bit of a rest in our rooms and agree to have a little supper together later on?’ Will looked hopefully toward her. He was still feeling quite guilty about her accident.

[Firefoot]

In her way, Cela had forgotten about the wider implications that Primrose’s and Will’s injuries might have on them. She had been careful to see that Primrose not move from her chair and perform all her duties sitting there, but beyond that had not thought that her injury might make her more tired than usual. Now that this possibility had been brought to attention, however, she was determined to see that Primrose received all the rest she needed.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of in admitting you’re tired, Primrose,” Cela said kindly but firmly. “If you need a rest, do say so and we’ll get you back to your room for a lie-down. The last thing I need is you making a little mistake like cutting yourself – it’s no good thing to be working in a kitchen when you’re tired.”

She gathered up the peeled potatoes from Primrose’s platter and set them in a pot to boil. “There aren’t that many more vegetables I need you to chop now, anyway. Why don’t you go have a rest, and if you feel better later on, you can come back and help. How’s that?”

[Celuien]

Primrose hesitated. She was tired, but she wanted to keep working, all the same. At the same time, Cela, Will, and Dick all seemed to be hinting that she should rest. She knew that they were right, but she had a streak of stubbornness that had a habit of appearing at the worst times. This was one of them.

"I wouldn't say I'm that tired yet," she said. "A little tired, though. Just a bit."

Everyone was looking at her now. From the concerned expressions on their faces, Primrose knew she wasn't fooling anyone, and she sighed in resignation. Reason won over her obstinacy.

"I guess I should rest a bit. But I think I'd rest better outside. Fresh air and sunshine are just the thing. Much more than being cooped up in my room. And besides, I'd be closer sitting on one of those benches outside the door here if you needed me again. How's that?"

[Dimturiel]

Meliot had remained in the room even after she had heard Rowan leaving. She had understood her message, and she knew that all was safe for the moment, but she felt as if she could not move. Her legs were shaking. What if she was caught, just as she was escaping?

"Oh, come on, lass!" she said, annoyed with herself. "Stop wasting time, and walk out that door. And the sooner you do it, the better it will be for all of us."

She cautiously opened the door and loooked arround. No one was to be seen. She quickly got out, closing the door behend her, and ran down the corridor. As she ran, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she had been seen.

Meliot reached the commmon rooom trying with all her might to hide her panting. She looked arround, searching for Rowan. She soon found her, and went to her.

"You willl never believe what I have found in there." she whispered. "Come, let's go somewhere where I can show you."

[Undómë]

Rowan looked about hastily, craning her neck to see if that Jack person were anywhere about. When she assured herself that he was no place where he could see her and Meliot, she took her friend by the arm and hurried her to an empty table.

'I can't get away just now,' she whispered. 'Much as I'd like to! Prim's gone off and broken her leg and Will fell off the stable somehow and broke a finger and sprained his wrist.' She grinned and raised her eyebrows at Meliot. 'Hmmm...and come to think of it, they both ended up on the ground quite nearby each other. Or so I've been told. I'm thinking there might just have been a little hanky-panky going on, as my Gran would say!'

She looked about to see where Master Boffin was. 'Here, help me get these last tables cleared and wiped, will you? I'll get that lot over there who just came in some bread and cheese and ale. I think then I can slip away until it's time for the supper crowd.'

Rowan handed Meliot a rag and a tray for gathering up the dirty dishes. But before they parted to get the tasks done, Rowan drew up near to her friend and spoke low. 'Thorns and thistles! Just tell me quick what you found, won't you? I'm dying of curiosity already. You can show me whatever it is when we're done here.' She peeked about quickly to see if anyone were watching them.

[Forest Elf]

Gable just finished mucking out the last stall and leading the pony to the stall. “There you are, boy. How’s a nice and clean stall sound to you?” Gable asked the pony, taking off his bridle.

She hung the bridle and walked into the Inn, and over heard Primrose and Will talking about having a rest. Gable walked to her room and changed into her mother’s dress, one that she’d never worn out of her room before, and one that she kept secret. It was the only dress, and the most beautiful, in Gable’s eyes, from her mother’s wardrobe.

She walked over to her dresser and opened up the upper drawer, a little too high for any hobbit to reach without standing on something. Gable reached in and pulled out her father’s shirt, and hugged it. She missed them both so much, and her foster parent’s. She was allowed to keep a two hat’s from them after they died one from her foster-father, and one from her foster-mother.

Gable carefully placed the hats’ and shirt back into the drawer, and changed into a dress that she’d gotten, here in the shire, and folded her mother’s dress carefully, and placed the soft blue gown into the drawer, atop of her father’s shirt.

She took off her boots and put on a pair of elf girl’s shoes. Then unbraided her hair and brushed it out. Letting it go long, as she didn’t do so often. She headed back down stairs to see if any help was wanted.

[Tevildo]

"Actually, we won't be fishing in the Baranduin, Jack. I'd love to go down to the big river but there's not enough time today. The Stockbrook cuts through the southern portion of the village and runs just across the road from the Inn. Plus, it has a good supply of brown trout along with lots of other fish."

It took only a few minutes of walking until they arrived at the bank of the small river. They walked downstream a few paces. Ahead of them, they could glimpse a bend in the river where a large tree grew with low hanging bows. Tied to one of these boughs was a small grey boat with two oars, just large enough to carry a hobbit and a man.

"She's my beauty," beamed Tollers, with obvious pride. '"I call her "The Brandy". Tollers paused a minute and then went on in a voice tinged with some regret, "Still, I only putter about in the waters near Stock. You know, Jack, you're a lucky fellow. From the sound of it, you've been all over. Unfortunately, I've been nowhere at all. They say that this river begins in the forests above Woody End, and flows through the Marish until it comes here. If you walk a bit further upstream, you'll see where it empties into the Baranduin, a few miles north of Bucklebury Ferry. I guess you must have come by way of the ferry to get to the Shire. From there, the Baranduin runs south for a long, long way. Some folk even claim it goes all the way to the Sea, but I couldn't say for sure one way or the other."

Tollers confessed, "I've only been to Woody End once and, as for the Sea, I've never even seen it. I'm ashamed to say, but I haven't even been to Bree. Maybe someday, you and I can travel together to Bree, and I could meet your friends, and family, and such."

Bu that time, they had reached the boat. Tollers squatted down and took out two poles, each with a line, a sinker, a float, and a small hook attached. "Alright, now, no use wasting time on regrets. Take whichever one you like, then we'll get inside and row a bit upstream to a place I know that's wonderful for fish. Nice, deep, shady waters. They love to go there in the late afternoon."

[Lilly]

There had been ‘The Nap’. Mother insisted on it each day. Seren, of course, slept, as she was just five. Taffy was allowed to sit on his bed for a space of time, quietly engaging in some occupation. Drawing perhaps, or reading the little chapbook his Uncle had given him – Wild tales of animals who could talk and how they helped or tricked or bested the Hobbit characters depending on what the story was.

He like the one best about the fiery colored dragon. It made him shiver at the thought of those teeth and claws and flaming breath. But he liked how smart the old worm was and how he could trick people just using their own words against them.

And now naptime was over. They’d had a nice cold glass of cider each, and a fat jam sandwich from the kitchen. Something to tide them over ‘til supper. Taffy was sent out to the front lawn to supervise his sister. And he thanked his lucky stars that the two children of the Innkeeper, Daisy and Dorlind, had come out to play, too, keeping her company. A quick game of tag was organized and Taffy played for a bit, then left the three to their own devices as he sat on the bottom step of the inn. He’d been thinking about that dragon he’d read about. There had been a small drawing penned along the edge of the page, giving the author’s idea of what the great beast looked like.

Taffy hauled a nice little block of soft wood from his pocket and fetched out his whittling knife. He turned the piece of wood over and over, considering it from all sides. And when he’d got the feeling for the flow of the grain, he began to rough out the dragon’s shape.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot had to try hard to restrain herself not to ask details about what happpened to Prim and Will. After all, she had a much more pressing matter at hand. When that was clear, she would turn her curiosity to other things too. Therefore, she began speaking in a low, secretive voice. She told Rowan of all that she had found in Jack's room, being careful to describe every item of jewelery found with as much detail as posible.

"You should have seen them, Rowan!" she exclaimed passionatedly. "They were all so lovely and so bright, they seemed to have been fit for a qween's use! One could hardly believe that the likes of that one can afford such things. And why does he go about with them, I will never be able to understand. But the jewels are not all." At that, Meliot cast an uneasy look about her, and lowered her voice even more.

"I found something, Rowan. A drawing with an x on it. It seems like a map that leads to something, as in the tales we've heard. I really must show it to you, but not here. Someone might see us."

She wondered if she should tell Rowan that, as she had escaped from Jack's room, she had felt as if someone had seen her, but she thought better and decided to keep that for herself. She could not be sure about it, and she did not want to give Rowan the impression that she was frightened in any way.

[Kath]

Cir was bored, and the sidelong glance at her brother confirmed that he was feeling the same way. They were sitting by the fire in the Woodhall, staring into the flames as though they would offer some excitement. For a place exclusive to elves there wasn’t much light-hearted singing or dancing going on, and the twins had even been frowned on for making their own music.

The journey from Rivendell had been spent in a similar quiet, subdued state, unsurprising since they’d been stuck with this group of pilgrims travelling to the palantir of the Emyn Beraid. She could only assume that her parents had thought the experience might calm the two siblings down a little before they reached their aunt’s house in Mithlond. Enhiriel especially had not been pleased when the twins had taken it upon themselves to reorganise the library to what they thought was a better system. It seemed that neither Erestor nor Elrond had not been quite so appreciative of their efforts, and it had been quietly but firmly suggested that perhaps they go out to see the world a little. Their father, Gilthalion had been the one to decide that they should go to visit Mithalwen, certain that she would be able to cope with their boisterous nature.

Cir was beginning to think that their reputation had preceded them, and possibly one that was undeserved, as the pilgrims were keeping such a close eye on them that she wondered if they’d been told that their activities might lead to genuine harm rather than simple annoyance. Their few nights in Bree had been spent under the watchful gaze of at least 4 of the pilgrims at any one time, so they’d had no chance to go and explore, and both were feeling frustrated with the restrictions being placed on them.

Now at least they were being allowed time on their own, but the delights of the Woodhall had faded once every tree and bower had been explored. They had heard from the hobbit Bilbo of his adventures in the halls of King Thranduil in Mirkwood, but to their disappointment the woodland halls of their own people were little more than a glorified campsite, and music or noise of any kind were discouraged during the day when they might be a disturbance to the local inhabitants out and about their business. Only when the stars rose did the music start and might pass as an echo into hobbit dreams.

A sigh from Cir caught her attention.

“Bored?” She asked, knowing the answer, and his nod confirming it. “So let’s get out of here!”

Cir looked at her, a grin slowly appearing on his face.

“Got a plan?” He asked.

“Of course.”

Half an hour later the twins were up a tree, watching the comings and goings at a place called “The Golden Perch”. They had come out of the woods and had simply started walking across the fields in the general direction of the building in the near distance, Cir complimenting her brother on his excellent distraction skills. She never could work out how he got even much older and wiser people to fall for his tales, but she was very appreciative of his talents none the less.

“What do you think?” Asked Cir, ready to go inside and explore but, for once, waiting for his sister to give her opinion.

He had done his part by technically informing one of the older elves that they were going without them fully realising the significance of his words. The secret, he found, was to find someone who was so much more interested in something else and give them a rambling explanation which contained vague references to something worthwhile such as collecting firewood until they said "Yes?” The enquiry was taken as permission and the pair disappeared before their hapless victim could quite work out what they had been thanked for. It had been easier than expected, and now they had reached Woodhall, which pilgrims regarded as home territory. He knew his sister would insist on the final decision, using the prerogative of her extra 20 minutes of age. He also knew she was just as curious as he and was sure she would want to go in. Might as well let her think she has her own way, he thought, easier for me to win next time.

Able to see through the windows, Cir had seen the warm welcome given to every person who had entered since the two of them had hopped up the tree. The hobbit at the bar looked to have an easy-going and kind nature, even seeming comfortable chatting to the elf they had observed sitting at one of the tables. She had also seen what looked very much like a ranger being almost interviewed by two members of the race of Men, and she was itching to get inside and find out what was going on. Cir’s comment in her ear had startled her, not least because it seemed that he was actually going to listen to her opinion.

“I think it looks good.” She replied, lithely dropping from the branch she’d been perched on, closely followed by Cir. When they were full grown the boy would surely be a little taller and broader than his sister and his features a little stronger but for now, clad in similar clothes they were as alike a pair of bookends at first glance certainly - and at second and third too for all but the most observant.

Pausing only to check on the safety of the purse of coins their parents had given them "for emergencies", the two made their way inside carefully, ducking to get through the door with heads still intact. Once in they were able to straighten up again, and took a few moments to just look around. Their experience of hobbits was limited to the brief exposure they’d had to Bilbo, and they’d been told that he was a great exception to normal hobbit behaviour. Those seated round the tables stared at them as they entered, but Cir felt no ill will directed at her or her brother, and smiled at the frank curiosity on many of the faces turned toward them.

Nodding politely to those they passed, the twins made their way up to the counter Cir had seen what appeared to be the Innkeeper standing behind, and waited for him to reappear.

[Folwren]

“What are you whittling?”

The question came from Dorlind. He cocked his head sideways to see over Taffy’s shoulder when he wasn’t exactly standing behind him. Taffy looked up briefly. “A bird?” Without asking permission or if he was invited, he sat down on the step beside him. “How’d you learn how to whittle? Does your Dad let you play with knives? Mine don’t. Mami and Papi think I’d chop of my finger.” He made the motion of whittling, but his pretend knife went to far and sliced his finger. “Augh!” he cried in mock horror. “See?” he went on, becoming serious again. “I keep telling them I wouldn’t, but they don’t believe me. My big brother is allowed to whittle. He makes whistles. Can you make whistles?”

--
Dick

Dick was relived when Primrose finally gave in to resting. He wasn’t so sure of her being able to rest better outside in the sun without anything really comfortable to sit or lay on, but he figured he would press his luck and make her change her mind. He agreed to let her go outside and sit on a bench and straight away set around to helping her.

“I’ll help you now, lassie, but later we’ll get you some right proper crutches that you can hop around on. Lilly, dear, grab a stool, please, and we’ll prop up your foot. Someone should find a pillow, too, or something to cushion it.”

In just a few minutes, they had Primrose situated outside. The bench sat near the kitchen door in the shade of a large tree and surrounded by sweet herbs and some brilliant flowers. Her leg and foot was propped up by a stool with a cushion on it and Dick even went so far as to fetch a blanket in case she got cold.

“Now, don’t hesitate to holler if you need something,” he said as he stepped away. “Cela will hear you, or someone will, I’m sure. Understand?”

Primrose nodded and thanked him and Dick hurried back into the inn. “Keep your ears sharp, Cella, in case she calls,” Dick said as he passed through the kitchen. “Lilly, you don’t mind staying around, do you? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, Dick. I’ve got it under control.” Lilly smiled at him from where she sat, chopping vegetables. “I’ll help Cela here. What about Will, here?” She nodded towards the young hobbit. Dick blinked at him.

“Oh! Will! My word, in my worry about poor Primrose. . .hold on a might, Will. I’ve got to go back out, I think someone else has come in, but if you need to go rest, then go right ahead. You’ve got my permission.”

He hurried out into the common room and sure enough, two newcomers had come in. Elves, no less, Dick noted with surprise. There hadn’t been elves around for some time. Gable was about constantly, yes, but she lived there and had become a part of life.

“Good afternoon!” he said, smiling his broadest. “How can I help you?”

[Envinyatar]

‘The Stock Brook, is it?’ Jack took the pole Tollers offered him and looked it over. ‘Yep, this’ll do just fine. Did you make it yourself, Tollers?’ he asked as the two waded out a little into the water and climbed into the boat.

He let Tollers take the oars as he knew the river and Jack didn’t. On the way home, he promised to himself, I’ll do the rowing. It was a generous thought on his part; the sort he was unaccustomed to thinking. Jack reached up and scratched his head. Just what was going on here?

They soon arrived at one of Toller's favorite pools. Jack helped throw out the little anchor – a rope and a heavy stone. Baiting his hook, he threw it out a little away from Toller’s own line.

‘By my old man’s whiskers!’ he cried, seeing the bobber begin to bob up and down with a vigor almost right away. ‘You were right, my friend! Great place to fish!’

He hauled in the first of his catch with a laugh. ‘You know, Tollers, you’re an easy man to be around,’ he said stringing his catch on a rope line and lowering it back into the water to keep fresh. ‘You ever get a mind to…you have time, that is, we could see some of those sights you heard about…

Though not right away, I hope.. he thought to himself. I kinda like it here…

[Mithalwen]

Carantilion realised that his sister, having led the way into the inn was going to let him do the talking... which was a little unfortunate because the hobbit landlord's friendly greeting had reminded him that he would have to use the Westron for the first time in some while. He had not been the most attentive student and in recent years, since the twins misadventures had started to be regarded as borderline delinquency rather than youthful high spirits, they had been given little chance to mingle with the non-elvish visitors to Rivendell.

The boy was slightly mesmerised by the sight of the hobbit. He looked rather like the Mr Baggins he remembered with his merry round face and brown curly hair but he seemed much shorter (Cir had forgotten that he had grown well over a foot since Bilbo's visit ).

After a slightly too long pause as he gathered his thoughts and words and spoke at last "I would like something to drink, please". The Landlord chuckled to himself, told the young elf he was in the right place and asked him to be more specific, what did he normally drink?

Encouraged , the boy became more verbose - "water, wine, sometimes mead, perry or ale " he said hoping he had got the words right. "We had miruvor once but I don't want anything like that again" he added making a face and remembering a disatrous raid on the Rivendell stills.

"Mirrorwater ?, what is that? ", asked Dick puzzled.

"I don't know the word in your tongue but it burns the throat and gives a headache" answered the elf ruefully.

The hobbit chuckled again - "Ah firewater... well we have that and most of the other things you named but what we are known for is our beer - but not all ladies care for it" he added with a glance at the elfmaid.

"That isn't a lady - that's my sister" said Cir cheerfully " and if you tell her she won't like something because she is a girl, she will want it - so two beers please as long as we have enough money?" he finished anxiously showing the hobbit the assortment of coins from the little leather pouch.

[Folwren]

“That isn’t a lady - that’s my sister,” the elf said. Dick’s eyes glowed with humor. A young pair of siblings, no doubt. “. . .So two beers please as long as we have enough money?” Dick looked at the coins that the elf presented and his face that had clouded slightly, cleared instantly.

“Enough? Why that’s far more than enough! You could buy yourselves dinner and still have left over! I’ll get the beers. Where’re you two from?” He asked the question as he half turned to fill the mugs. He watched the ale foaming up in them with half his eye as the elf responded.

[Lilly]

‘I can make whistles, Dorlind.’ Taffy paused for a moment and looked at the younger boy. ‘In fact, if you fetch me a nice thick twig, say one about as thick as your daddy’s little finger…and about as long, too, then I’ll make one for you.’ He looked over to where Seren and Daisy were chasing a grasshopper. ‘Best you get one for your sister, too. If she’s anything like mine, then she’ll whine until she gets one.’

Taffy went back to his whittling. He stopped again and showed Dorlind the roughed out form. ‘It’s not a bird. Though it does have wings.’ He leaned close to Dorlind as if sharing a secret. ‘It’s going to be a dragon.’

[piosenniel]

‘I’ll meet you out front,’ Rhys called to his sister as she stood in front of the little polished mirror that hung on the wall. They’d excused themselves earlier from Hithadan’s company, saying that they had some business to attend to.

Tanni smiled at her brother as she fastened back her thick red hair with a beaded clasp her mother had made for her. ‘Go on, now. Let me just change my blouse and I’ll be ready to go.’ She shooed him out the door, promising she would hurry.

Rhys nodded to the two young fellows sitting on the porch and smiled at the picture of the little girls engaged in their giggling pursuit of the grasshopper. The ostler was nowhere to be found when he got to the stable, which was of no concern really. Nia and Olwen nickered softly as Rhys whistled. ‘Come on girls!’ he called to them, opening the doors to the stalls. The familiar routine of harnessing them to the cart took little time, and soon he had pulled up in front of the inn.

‘See, I told you I’d be ready!’ laughed Tanni, running down the stairs. She climbed into the cart and sat down. The warm afternoon breeze tousled her hair; she pushed back a stray strand, hooking it behind her ear. ‘I hope it’s as Rowan said…that Granny Greenhill won’t mind if we just drop in on her.’ Tanni untied her cloak and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it fall over the back of the cart seat. ‘How long do you think we’ll be gone on our errand?’ she asked in an offhand manner, flicking her eyes toward him and then away.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth curving up in an impious grin. ‘Well, I’m thinking we’ll be back in time for the evening meal. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason, really. Just making conversation.’

‘Mmhmm…’ he murmured, flicking the reins lightly against the mares’ haunches. And noting, as he did so, she had begun to sing softly to herself.

[Noinkling]

‘Tis a nice piece of work there, laddie!’ Skirvir threw back his hood and crouched down to watch the boy as he whittled. ‘Fiercesome creature though. Be glad you never had the chance to see one.’ He tipped his head this way and that regarding the form that was slowly taking shape. He was a craftsman, himself, though his preferred medium was quartz. He too liked to make small carvings of animals, many of which he gave to his younger cousins.

‘If you’re around this evening, you might get me and my cousins there,’ he said pointing to Bívor and Bávor, ‘to tell you the story of the great winged beast that stole our clan’s treasure and drove us from our home.’ He stood up with a mild groan and the cracking of tired knees; it had been a long journey since sunrise. ‘’Twas red, that beastie was. And he breathed fire out when he was angered.’ A smile creased the nearly hidden lips beneath the wild reddish beard. ‘Hobbit, it was, as tricked that odious and tricksome wyrm!’ His eyes crinkled and glistened from beneath his bushy brow. ‘’Pon my word, it was so.’

‘Skirvir! We’re dying of thirst here!’ cried Bávor, his hand on the handle of the door.

‘And hunger!’ growled Bívor, motioning for Skirvir to come along.

Skirvir nodded to the boy and to his younger companion. ‘We’ll see you later, eh? Looking forward to seeing how that piece turns out.’ He turned to follow after his cousins. ‘Oh, and remind me, if you will.’ He said turning back toward the Hobbit lad. ‘I’ve some pieces of my own, little animals like that. Perhaps you’d like to see them.’

^*^*^

The trio of Dwarves stood in the entry way of The Perch and looked about in a favorable manner. Savory smells issued from the kitchen, and large mugs of foaming ale passed nearly beneath their very attentive noses.

Bávor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘Southern Star,’ he murmured appreciatively. ‘Ahhh, and Longbottom Leaf, as I live and breathe.’

‘There’s a table. Over there by the fire.’ Bívor led his companions toward it and motioned one of the servers over. ‘Couple of pitchers of ale, yes?’ he said to his companions as the server approached. ‘And a large platter of ham and cheeses and bread to wrap it in.’

‘And mustard,’ chimed in Skirvir. ‘And maybe we ought to make it three pitchers of ale. Been a long dusty road today.’

The other two considered the suggestion for less than a second and nodded in agreement.

Bávor leaned toward the server and spoke in a low voice. ‘If you could find us a bit of Longbottom Leaf, I for one would be eternally in your debt.’

[Kath]

“Enough? Why that’s far more than enough! You could buy yourselves dinner and still have left over! I’ll get the beers. Where’re you two from?”

Cir had left her brother to do the ordering, not wanting to look like she didn't know what she was doing, which she certainly would have as beer was as new a concept to her as it was to him. She watched in fascination as the liquid appeared, a white foam on the top of it, and took over the conversation. She'd had a little more practice with Westron than Cir had, or at least had concentrated on learning it better.

"We're from Rivendell. My name is Cir and this is my brother, also called Cir."

She caught the look of confusion on the hobbit's face and laughed.

"Yes our names are the same. Don't worry, most people get used to it in time."

The Innkeeper didn't look convinced but handed them the beers nonetheless. Warily Cir took a sip, rememebering the taste of miruvor as well as her brother, and hoping she wasn't about to experience a similar sensation of disgust. She was pleasantly surprised as the drink slid down her throat. It was bitter but didn't burn, and had an aftertaste that lingered in the mouth. Noticing that Cir had been watching her to gauge her reaction she smiled at him and nodded for him to try it.

"Thank you." She said turning back to the hobbit. "You said that we have enough money to buy food as well, what do you serve? Oh! And what is your name? It is hard to talk with someone when you haven't been introduced."

[Folwren]

Dick
“You said we have enough money to buy food as well, what do you serve? Oh! And what is your name? It is hard to talk to someone when you haven’t been introduced.”

As though it would be easy to talk to two people who had the same name! But Dick answered immediately and evenly all the same. “Seredic Boffin at your service,” he said with a slight bow. “You may call me Dick, though. Everyone else does, mostly. Right now, we’ve got cheese and bread and seed cakes and other such stuff to serve, but in an hour or two, we’ll have a stew of a sort ready to serve. One of my hobbits have gone down to the river fishing and if he’s got a good catch, we’ll have fish stew. Or cook makes an excellent fish stew,” he added, nodding wisely.

--

Dorlind

Dorlind trotted off to find the sticks that Taffy instructed him to. How exciting! An older boy actually willing to make him something! His older brother, Treffy, rarely ever made him anything. He always said he was too busy, and for some reason, he always did seem to be busy. Dorlind didn’t always mind because occasionally they played together.

He found what Taffy said he would need, enough to make two whistles, and started back. He slowed his step as he drew near, seeing a dwarf standing and talked with Taffy. Two other dwarves stood in the doorway waiting for their companions.

Slowly, Dorlind drew near and he caught some of the dwarf’s words. “Hobbit, it was, that tricked that odious and tricksome worm! ‘Pon my word it was so.”

At that moment, the dwarf’s two companions called to him and ordered him away. Dorlind took a few more steps nearer as he straightened and went after them. “We’ll see you later, he? Looking forward to seeing how that piece turns out.” Dorlind went right up to Taffy’s side, extending the twigs silently as his eyes followed the broad back of the dwarf. “Oh, and remind me, if you will,” the stranger added without turning back around. “I have some pieces of my own, little animals like that. Perhaps you’d like to see them.”

Dorlind slid into his seat beside Taffy and whispered in his ear, thinking the dwarf might over hear him. “Who was that?”

[Forest Elf]

Gable was walking over to the kitchens, when she saw two very familiar faces. She took a second look at them and instantly remembered the two from Rivendell, Cir and Cir. Gable smiled and started over to the table, where Dick was talking with the two elves.

“Hello, Cir and Cir.” Gable said. “How are things in Rivendell? It’s been a long time since anyone from down there has come up to the Shire, anyone that I know anyways.”

[Undómë]

Rare as Dwarves were in Stock and as curious as she might be about where they’d come from and what they’d seen, still Rowan was in too much a hurry to get her duties done. Meliot’s find in Jack’s room had intrigued her.

‘Yes, sirs,’ she answered once they’d placed their order. ‘Ham it is and cheddar from Brandy Hall itself. Oh and yes of course mustard. I’ll bring you several kinds, in fact. Cook grinds them up…quite good. And a basket of bread…no, two, I think. Three pitchers of ale…’ she started to turn away. ‘Oh and yes…I’m sure I can round up a pouch of Longbottom Leaf, too.’

Rowan flew round the kitchen like a whirlwind, gathering up what was needed. She threw in a dish of pickles, too. With an economy of motion, she set the food and ale and pipeweed before the trio. Even as they thanked her, she was smiling and nodding as she backed away.

She dropped her tray behind the bar and ran to find Meliot. Taking her friend by the arm, she maneuvered the both of them out the door. ‘Let’s find somewhere private,’ she said as they hurried down the front steps……

[Lilly]

Taffy’s eyes were still wide from the encounter with the Dwarf. He barely heard what Dorlind was saying. He’d heard of Dwarves, from stories his Grandda had told him, but he’d never clapped eyes on one. This was in deed a treat of a day! Taffy took in a deep breath and recalled his attention to the boy.

‘I can’t really say who that was. He didn’t give his name.’ Taffy held up his little carving and turned it this way and that in his hand. ‘But he says he’s a whittler, too. And likes to make little animals.’ His eyes shone with excitement. ‘And best of all, he said he would tell me a tale later about a dragon…..and about a Hobbit that bested him!’ Taffy took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped his little project in it, carefully replacing the carving in his breeches pocket.

‘I’ll bet he’ll let you listen in, too,’ he went on, grinning at Dorlind. ‘If you’re brave enough, that is.’

‘Here, hand over those twigs you brought.’ He took the two pieces of wood and looked them over thoughtfully. ‘These will do nicely.’ He patted the step beside him. ‘Sit down close to me; I’ll show you how it’s done.’

[Mithalwen]

Cir recognised Gable but called her by her true name " Hello Nolwe, quieter since we aren't there I guess - we have been sent away" he added mournfully, remembering sadly the conversation he had overheard between his parents, the one he hadn't even told his sister about. "We are going to stay with our aunt in Mithlond but we have had to travel with some pilgrims to the Emyn Beraid - old people" he added - Gable was younger than the twins and one of the few other young elves at Imladris - until she went away that was .

Overhearing his sister's conversation with Dick he asked "Could we stay long enough for the proper food or should we get back by then? I am fed up with bread and cheese - it seems that that and lembas is all we have had since we left home." He finally tasted his beer and found he liked the taste ...darker than the ale the elves brewed.

[Kath]

Cir had noticed Gable, or Nolwe as she was, arrive but had left her brother to talk with her while she tried to work out whether they had time to eat before they would need to leave if they intended to get back before dark. She was bored of staple foods, and wanted something more interesting, this fish stew for example. She decided that since they were already going to be in trouble for sneaking off, they might as well add to the list of offences, and turned to check with Cir, but found him already speaking to her.

"Could we stay long enough for the proper food or should we get back by then? I am fed up with bread and cheese - it seems that that and lembas is all we have had since we left home."

"I say we stay." She replied, directing her words at both Cir and Dick. "I'd like to try some of this local fish. I remember Mr. Bilbo saying that the Shire had the finest cooks in the world. And while we wait we can talk with you Nolwe, you must tell us all about this place."

[Tevildo]

An hour or two had passed with pleasant conversation and a number of good sized fish hanging from the string that they could bring back to Cook. Tollers was quite pleased with himself and could not have asked for a lovlier afternoon. Jack had proven to be a good fisherman who was quite handy with both the pole and the net.

Now, however, it was getting late. He needed to return immediately and help set the table. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble with Master Dick again. Jumping out from the boat and into the shallow water, Tollers indicated that Jack should do the same and bring the fish along with him. The hobbit dragged his craft up onto the muddy shore, stowed the oars, and secured the vessel with a thick rope that he tied to a low lying bush. Then he walked along the side of the brook, his bare feet splashing in the shallow water for no other reason than the sheer joy of it. It was at this point that his eyes caught an unexpected gleem. He stooped to have a closer look and was surprised to find a small golden disc half buried in the mud, hidden among a thick strand of cat tails. Bending down and scooping up the prize, Tollers extended the object towards his friend.

"Take a look. How strange! I have no idea what this is. Jack, have you ever seen anything like this?"

[Glirdan]

The small figure walked slowly towards the Inn. The sun was just sinking behind him in the West from whence he came, casting pleasent shadows about him. As he walked, a ray of sun hit the sign above the Inn door and temporarily blinded him; for above the door hung a sign, and on the sign was a golden perch. "Hmmm, probably the name of this here Inn," he thought to himself. "Seems pleasent enough, and definetly open to any weary travaller, and I do believe that I qualify under that category." He chuckled deeply at his own joke and proceded towards the Inn.

As he walked closer towards the Inn, he noticed that the building was built into the hill behind it. "What facinating creatures these Hobbits are! They are as ingenious as us Dwarves! How I would like to meet one of them and learn more about their culture."

He walked up to the low circular door and entered into the Common Room. He looked around and took stock of his position: the fireplace made of stone ("I wonder what the blacksmiths here are like?"), the bar and counter to his right. He noted that there were people sitting about.

He walked up to the counter and took a seat. The Hobbit behind the counter was rather short ("I wonder if all Hobbits are this short?" for he had never seen a Hobbit, even on his way across the Shire for he had avoided all the bigger villages, hoping to pass through them on his back home later on in time.) but he seemed to be a merry fellow.

"Hi there!" he called out. "Could I get some ale? I heard rumour that it's supposed to be the best in this beautiful country. By the way, I'm Kár, Kár Oakenarrow."

[Envinyatar]

Jack laid the string of fish down on the grassy part of the bank as Tollers held out the gold disc. His eyes gleamed at the sight of it. Taking it gently from his companion’s fingers, he turned it this way and that in the westering light.

‘Well, isn’t this just something, Tollers!’ He held the disc up in the air, letting it catch the light. ‘You’ve found a real gold coin here!’ Jack bit on the coin, affirming, so he told Tollers, that it was gold for sure. ‘It’s an old one, too. Look here, you can hardly make out what picture is on it.’ He rubbed it with his sleeve’s edge and held it up for a closer look. ‘Can’t tell about this side, but look here,’ he said flipping it over. ‘Does this sort of look like a hammer of some sort?’

[Noinkling]

A small cloud of smoke hovered over the table where the three Dwarves sat. The platter of ham and cheese, the baskets of bread were empty; their bellies full. The three sat back in their chairs quite at ease, pipes in hand.

‘Well, I say from here we stay off The Great Road and head west through the Green Hills.’ Skirvir drew in a mouthful of smoke and blew out a trio of fat rings.

Bávor leaned forward, pouring himself another mug of ale. ‘Yes, but what say we stay off the main road there, too.’ He raised his mug to his companions. ‘Let’s rough it through the hills, like our fathers’ fathers did.’ He pitched his voice a little lower. ‘You know, when they were bringing that shipment east.’ He raised his brows at his brother and cousin. ‘Could be the luck runs our way with this. What say you?’

‘Fine with me,’ Skirvir agreed, topping off his own mug. ‘But I say we nose about here a bit; look and listen for anything might fine tune what route we should be taking.’

‘Sounds good!’ Bívor added. ‘There’s no hurry. Lain there for years, it should weather another few days or so without problem.’ He looked to see where the Innkeeper was. ‘Why doesn’t one of you get us a room? I could use a quick nap before supper.’

[Undómë]

Rowan hurried Meliot off the little porch and around to the side of the inn, away from the kitchen. There was a small little arbor there covered with ivy, a private sort of place. And especially now that supper was drawing near and most of the guests and workers were gathered back inside.

‘I’ve only a few moments before Cook will be needing me to help with the next meal.’ She glanced about, trying to make sure no one was about to listen in on them. ‘Show me what you found in the man’s room.’

Their voices fell into hushed whisperings as Meliot unfolded the paper and smoothed it out on the bench between them.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot followed Rowan, her heart beating with impatience at the thought of what her friend might say of her discovery. She had no doubt that she had found something very important, something that would give her weeks, if not even months of talking and of being in the centre of atention. She took the piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Rowan.

"So, what do you think of it?" she asked, pausing to examine Rowan's amazed features. "I for one find it most suspicious. And I have no doubt now that this man is up to no good. Why, he surely stole this map and the jewells. I say the sooner he's out of here, the better for us all. Why, who knows what else he is capable of?"

[Forest Elf]

“Well, at least you get to get out… Sorry about your being sent away.” Gable added, remembering the time when she too was sent away to an elderly hobbit couple, here in the Shire. She did respect them, and there were times when she missed her parents desperately, yet she loved life in the Shire, at the same time she missed Rivendell. Cir’s saying her true name, brought up a lot of memories, from when she was younger, since no one around here, until now, of course, had ever mentioned her true name.

She walked off to the kitchen to see if she could do anything, after Cir had joined in his sister’s conversation with Dick. She pictured her Mother’s smiling face, then her Father’s, and nearly walked into a wall, so focused on the memory.

She shook her head to clear the memory, and walking into the kitchen said, trying to sound like her normal self; “Is there anything that I can do to help? Since the stables have been taken care of, I can make myself useful around here. I’m good for more than taking care of horses, especially in being an elf.”

[Tevildo]

"A gold coin? Oh, Jack, are you certain? I've never found anything in my entire life, except a lost mitten that belonged to a young hobbit lad and a small purse with pennies that a Mannish peddler misplaced in the marketplace. Of course, I gave the purse back," Tollers hastily added to be sure that Jack knew he wasn't the type to walk off with someone else's money.

"But what is that hammer? I've never seen a Shire coin with a hammer on it. In fact that hammer looks a bit odd to me. Farmers use hammers to nail on roof shingles or put up a shed in their backyard, but that thing looks pretty formidable. The only folk I've seen carrying a hammer like that were two dwarves coming through the Shire on their way to visit some kinfolk."

A worried look crossed Tollers' face. "Jack, perhaps, I shouldn't keep this coin. After all, it's not mine. Perhaps I should turn it in to the shiriff, and he'll know what to do. Only I wanted to keep it all for myself, and be able to show it off to the others at the Inn. What do you think?"

Tollers reached down, picked up the string of fish, and turned back in the direction of the Golden Perch, but not before hastily grabbing the coin back from Jack and tucking it inside his inner vest pocket.

[Envinyatar]

‘You keep that coin safe, my friend.’ Jack lengthened his stride just a little to catch up to the Hobbit. ‘And if I were you, I wouldn’t go showing it about just yet.’ He put his hand lightly on Tollers’ shoulder. The coin looks really old, Tollers. I’ll just bet it doesn’t belong to anybody. I’ll bet they’re dead, whoever it was as lost it.' He nodded his head as if considering the problem. 'You know, I was just thinking…..where there’s one coin there probably are more.’

He stopped and stood looking upriver from where they’d tied up Tollers’ boat. The Stock Brook wound away, west, and out of sight. In the distance it became a thin silver ribbon that narrowed down to a faint gleam as it entered the shadows of the trees and hills.

‘Maybe this washed down the river…..maybe if we went up the Stock we could find others.’ He grinned and nodded at his companion. ‘Boy, oh boy! Wouldn’t that just be a treat to show everyone at the Inn? A whole handful of coins….or maybe even more….’

They reached the door to the kitchen and Tollers handed the cleaned fish into Mistress Brandybuck. Jack smiled at the cook, hoping she’d forgotten his misadventures with her dishes earlier. He handed over a basket of fat, thick mushrooms, all cleaned and layered in a basket with moss. ‘Thought these might taste good with those trout,’ he said. ‘Can’t beat a good fry-up of fish and mushrooms….no, ma’am!’

[Arry]

Will sat on the edge of his bed and drank down the rest of the cup of willowbark tea. A cold concoction that had started out hot when he’d first laid down. He felt much better now, he thought, as the cool liquid ran down his throat. His head had stopped throbbing and whatever he looked at was in focus now. Will stood up gingerly. The ground stayed put beneath his feet, no longer bucking and heaving like the surface of a storm tossed lake.

So far, so good, he thought to himself. His arm, too, seemed to be cooperating. His wrist ached dully and his broken finger was well splinted. As long as he didn’t try to wriggle the fingers of his left hand, the finger felt comfortable enough.

He stopped at the well and washed his hand and face as best he could. ‘’Twill have to do,’ he said to himself. He made his way into the kitchen, nodding a greeting to those there.

‘Those look great!’ he said, clapping Tollers on the back. ‘Did you catch them all yourself?’ He spied the mushrooms and grinned. ‘Can’t wait for Cela to work her magic on these!’

[Undómë]

Rowan turned the map this way and that. She’d never really seen one before. Though, she’d heard of them in stories. But those sort were always maps the heroes and such would use to find their way to a treasure of some sort. She traced the X with her forefinger.

‘Maybe he didn’t steal the jewels,’ Rowan said slowly, thinking aloud. ‘What if those are part of a treasure he found.’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘What if there were so many jewels and necklaces and goblets of gold and silver and coins that he could only carry a few around with him? This just might be a map to all that.’

She stared dreamily up toward the overarching leaves of the arbor. ‘We could find it! Don’t you think?’

Rowan smoothed the map out again on the bench and looked expectantly at Meliot. ‘Now all we have to do is figure out what all the little pictures are supposed to stand for.’

On one side of the paper was what sort of looked like water with boats that had sails. Then land, and crudely marked mountainy things and more land and a string of hills that ran across the middle of the paper, which was where the ‘X’ was. Part of the paper, on the right hand side, was torn off…

Rowan sighed. ‘Looks like something a little kid scribbled…what do you think?’

[Folwren]

Dorlind scooted right up next to Taffy and peered expectantly over his arm as he watched the knife carve away little shavings of wood. As he watched, his little mind turned over what Dorlind had said.

“Is he really going to tell you a story?” he asked after a long silence had lasted between the two of them.

“He said he would,” Taffy replied.

“I’ll be brave enough. Papi tells us all sorts of stories sometimes when he comes home. He knows lots. But he doesn’t tell about dragons very much. Mostly, they have animals that can talk. Papi’s a good story teller! I’ll like to hear about dragons. I’m brave enough, sure.” A short, doubtful pause. “You don’t think it’ll be too scary?”

There was a pause. Taffy carefully shaped the wood, bending over it as it took a gentle curve. Dorlind bent and craned his neck to see. In a moment, Taffy seemed to have gotten over a difficult part and he straightened back up and answered.

[Mithalwen]

Cir was astonished to look up from his sip of beer and find that Nolwe had vanished. He had heard his sister ask her to tell them about the Shire - but she had just gone. His face fell again. Noone liked them who knew them it seemed. He hoped their aunt would give them a chance or what would become of them?

The overheard conversation reverberated in his mind again.

His mother's voice soft, hopeful, " Maybe this visit to Mithalwen will be the making of them .. she is musical too - and she was restless in her youth..."

"But she always had her craft, she begged Cirion and me to teach her everything we knew from the day she was big enough to hold a hammer or a plane but they are near full grown and good for nothing as yet......of course they were spoiled but I despair ...."

They couldn't go home yet that was certain and they had little money - at least not at their disposal - Cir knew his father had handed a more substantial purse to the leader of the pilgims to cover any major expenses on their journey and to go towards their keep at Mithlond - and what was worse no means of making any. For the first time he regretted his laziness.

His father was one of the best smiths remaining in Middle Earth yet Cir would struggle to make a horseshoe. His mother was more studious in nature and worked in the library of Imladris as well as being a poet of some reknown - but she also had the more practical skills of a bookbinder. He wondered if there was anything they could do to make money. They were musical that was true and it was the only time the twins uncanny bond was usually appreciated by others. But they had no instruments. His father was right he was good for nothing. And suddenly as unhappy as he had ever been in his life, Carantilion Laicirith took yet another deep draught of beer.

[Celuien]

Shadows played on the grass in front of Primrose as the breeze set the leaves above her into motion. She took a deep breath, savoring the freshness of the air, and catching a hint of the cookery in the kitchen. The thought of dinner made her mouth water, and she took another sip of tea.

Though her leg still ached, the pain had dropped to a faint twinge that bothered Primrose only if she moved. She leaned against the bench, resting her back against the weathered wood, and closed her eyes. In a moment, she fell asleep to the sound of birds singing in the trees.

[Kath]

Cir had been surprised when Nolwe had wandered off without a word, but had quickly forgotten the seeming oversight as she watched her brother staring into his drink as though it held the secrets of the world. She had been a little worried about him ever since they'd left home, he hadn't been his usual cheeky self and had to be prodded into anything and everything. She hadn't pushed him to tell her what was going on, she knew he'd come out with it eventually, but she was still concerned about him, doing everything she could to get him out of his shell.

Removing the money purse from his unresponsive hand she rifled through the contents quickly, trying to make some calculations. She knew they had enough money for a good few meals yet, even after this fish stew, but not much else. Looking at Cir again she decided that what he needed was a couple of days away from the pilgrims in a place where they weren't known and could be themselves without recriminations.

Decision made she called to the Innkeeper, who had left them to deal with a Dwarf that had just entered, the fact that her brother hadn't even noticed the new arrival making her confident that she was doing the right thing.

"Dick," she began, choosing her words carefully, "my brother and I are travelling but the group we are with is taking a few days rest before we continue. They are pilgrims, and not lively enough for our tastes. This Inn, though, seems like a fine place to stay a while. We have some money and are happy to pay for everything we eat and drink, but if we do that we would not have enough to pay for a room. I don't wish to be rude but might it be possible for us to make a deal? Cir and I have some skill with music and would be happy to earn our keep by entertaining your other patrons, if you are agreeable to that?"

[Folwren]

"Hi there!" a new voice called out. "Could I get some ale? I heard rumor that it's supposed to be the best in this beautiful country. By the way, I'm Kár - Kár Oakenarrow."

Dick turned away from the female Cir and walked towards the newcomer. It was another dwarf.

“Good afternoon, sir!” he said. “You certainly can get some ale. A pint, sir? Some of the golden brew?” Kár agreed and Dick quickly served him. “Welcome, Kár Oakenarrow,” he said, as he gave it to him. “I guess you’ll find out for yourself if it is the best ale this way. I think it is, but of course any chap who owns a place will say that. Find yourself a place to sit and make yourself comfortable. Shortly, we’ll have fish stew ready to serve. Over yonder are three of your kind.” He nodded towards Skirvir, Bívor and Bávor. “P’raps you know each other? If not, you could also make a new acquaintance.”

Kár looked over towards the three dwarves and Dick smiled encouragingly. “If you’re wanting any food now to break whatever fast you’ve held on the road, then we can get you something but-”

He was interrupted as one of the elves called him. He nodded to the dwarf. “Go find a seat,” he said again. “If you want anything, call me, or find one of the servers. . .” As he turned again to face Cir and Cir he cast a glance around. No server was in sight. He gave an inward sigh before giving all his attention to Cir, the girl one.

"Dick," she began, choosing her words carefully, "my brother and I are traveling but the group we are with is taking a few days rest before we continue. They are pilgrims, and not lively enough for our tastes. This Inn, though, seems like a fine place to stay a while. We have some money and are happy to pay for everything we eat and drink, but if we do that we would not have enough to pay for a room. I don't wish to be rude but might it be possible for us to make a deal? Cir and I have some skill with music and would be happy to earn our keep by entertaining your other patrons, if you are agreeable to that?"

For a moment, Dick made no immediate response. He turned her idea over in his head and then his eyes brightened. “What sort of music are you and your brother capable of?” he asked, almost eagerly. “We haven’t had a bit of lively music in this place for some time. It would be an excellent way to pass the evening! I think that’s doable. How long do you intend on staying?”

[Glirdan]

Kár stood up as Dick went to attend to the Elf Cir. He looked over to where the three Dwarves were sitting around. "Seems like they're discussing something. Perhaps I could be of service to them?" he thought as he made his way to where they were sitting.

"Good day to you, my friends. Dick pointed all of you out to me just a minute ago. By the way, I'm Kár- Kár Oakenarrow," he said joyfully. "It seems to me that you're all discussing something. Perhaps I could be of service to you somehow?"

[Tevildo]

"Ah, Will , it is so good to see you up and about. Yes, I did go fishing but I'm afraid I can't take all the credit. Jack, the new fellow that's staying at the Inn, came down with me to the Stock Brook, and we had some marvellous luck."

"In fact, more marvelous luck than any I've had before. Actually, I found a...."

Tollers stopped in his tracks and abruptly closed his mouth. He'd come inside the kitchen to get the serving things for dinner, but all the while he was lovingly fingering the coin inside his breast pocket. Jack had warned him to say nothing about the discovery....to keep everything a secret, and maybe they could find others like it. Tollers loved secrets. That is, he loved learning about them from other people. But he had a very hard time keeping a secret on his own. It seems that whatever went into his eyes and ears ended up spilling out of his mouth, unless he was very, very careful.This time, at least for the moment, he decided to be careful.

Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, Tollers glanced sheepishly over at Will and changed his tune slightly, "That is, I found a wonderful new spot in the brook, nice cool water under a tree where the fish swim about in the late afternoon. It is a wonderful place to fish. And I'm so glad you're feeling better. How's that hand doing? But let's talk later. I need to set the table for supper."

Tollers hastily excused himself and went over to get some cutlery that needed to be laid out on the dining tables along with several baskets of bread. Just as he left the kitchen, he impulsively nabbed Jack by the shoulder, pulling him off to the side. "I can't stand it, Jack. Either, I have to show this coin to someone, or we go back and find the rest of them. This secret is swelling up inside of me, and I'm going to bust. Anyways, if we wait too long, maybe someone else will get to the coins before we do. Do you think we might go back to the Stock late tonight after everyone is in bed, and have a look about?"

One of the other servers came up to Tollers and urged him to stop dawdling and be quick with the silverware. With a helpless shrug of his shoulders, the hobbit looked back longingly at Jack, frustrated to be cheated out of an immediate answer. "Have to go now and help with dinner, but let me know what you think as soon as you can."

As Tollers left the kitchen, he balanced the cutlery and bread baskets with one hand, while fingering the coin in his pocket with the other. It was very much on his mind.

[Noinkling]

‘Well, there goes the nap!’ thought Bívor to himself as the Dwarf approached. He settled himself back in his chair, motioning for Bávor to sit back down.

‘Master Oakenarrow!’ Skirvir stood up from his chair and reached over to pull out the other chair at their table. ‘Skirvir,’ he said by way of introduction, indication himself as he gestured to the empty seat. ‘And this is Bívor and his younger brother, Bávor.’

‘Yes, please, have a seat, won’t you. Kár, isn’t it?’ Bávor smiled genially at the newcomer. He turned in his seat and motioned for one of the servers. ‘Another pitcher of ale, please.’

Bívor looked at Kár, wondering at his offer of service. Was there something Kár knew? Of course not, you’re being silly! he told himself. None but the three of them knew of their underlying plans.

‘Where have you traveled from, Kár?’ Bávor asked, pouring a round of ale from the new pitcher. ‘We’re heading eastward, toward the Blue Mountains. We’ve heard, even in The Lonely Mountain, that there are interesting caverns to be seen beneath them. Carved out long ago,’ he paused for a moment. ‘Perhaps by some of our fathers’ fathers and before.’

[Mithalwen]

" .. pilgrims, and not lively... This Inn, though, seems like a fine place to stay a while. .......I have some skill with music and would be happy to earn our keep by entertaining your other patrons, if you are agreeable to that?"

His sister's words drifted into his ears and were enough to pause his maudlin reverie. Indeed they were striking enough to prompt a change in behaviour that would have startled anyone who had observed his statue like attitude of moments before. The boy Cir, set down his beer and was at his sister's side in an instant speaking very swiftly in their own tongue.

"Cir, what are you doing? We can't stay here! A few hours is one thing but they will miss us if we aren't back tonight let alone for a few days!!! They will be so cross - and I think Ada will kill us when he finds out ...and maybe Mithalwen won't have us and then what will we do? - and anyway we don't have any instruments with us - or anything really". All their possesions save those stowed in pockets or at their belts were back at Woodhall.

[Kath]

“What sort of music are you and your brother capable of?” Dick had asked, almost eagerly. “We haven’t had a bit of lively music in this place for some time. It would be an excellent way to pass the evening! I think that’s doable. How long do you intend on staying?”

Cir had opened her mouth to reply but was immediately interrupted by her brother, who had finally decided to join in the conversation, though it was clear that he wasn't pleased by it.

"Cir, what are you doing? We can't stay here! A few hours is one thing but they will miss us if we aren't back tonight let alone for a few days!!! They will be so cross - and I think Ada will kill us when he finds out ...and maybe Mithalwen won't have us and then what will we do? - and anyway we don't have any instruments with us - or anything really."

Dropping back into Sindarin as well Cir flashed an apologetic smile at Dick and set about reassuring her brother.

"Cir, don't panic ok? So they'll be a bit cross, they know we're old enough to look after ourselves, and that we'll look after each other. Ada may never find out, the pilgrims won't be returning for a long time and they're not about to send a messenger back to him just because we disappear for a couple of days! As to Mithalwen, I've heard tales of her adventures that make ours pale in comparison, I'm certain that she will still have us."

Seeing that Cir was swaying she played her ace, knowing a little guilt trip was just the thing to keep her brother on side.

"Anyway, you can go back if you want but I'm staying here, and if Ada finds out that you left me all alone in a strange place, well ..."

Scowling at her for the low blow Cir nodded his acquiescence to that, but repeated his point about the lack of instruments, refusing point blank to sing. He said that it was due to knowing no appropriate songs, but Cir was privately sure that his voice having broken relatively recently had a lot to do with.

"Well you're in luck!" She said triumphantly, pulling on a rope around her neck until a wooden instrument emerged from her garments. "I have here a pipe whistle that you can use to accompany me."

Having dealt with Cir's objections she turned to Dick and switched back to the Common tongue in order to finally answer his question.

"We will only be staying a few days, just until we have to continue on to our aunt's, and we are capable of any music you like, though if you want something more than a simple tune we will need to beg some instruments from you, if that's possible, and if you wish for tunes that we do not know you will have to teach us them first!"

[Envinyatar]

It had been Shanks’ mare for him, and a fast pace at that, to make it to the eastern edge of the Green Hills. There had been some tales, some whisperings of men moving in small groups through the wooded hill country. Ruffians some had named them; though, for the most part it was from their appearance that the name came and not from any base action on their part.

‘Yet . . .’ is how his fellow Ranger had put it, though, at the end of their discussion. ‘They are moving eastward; a trickle now. But even a small rill flows to the larger river and there to whatever sea draws it.’

The discussion had been brief, information passed on from one to the other. And another day would be passed on again to other ears to carry forward. Whatever the source, the course, the destination, keen eyes and sharp ears would seek them out until their purposes be well known.

-¤-

Supper was already being served when Hithadan made it back to the Perch. He stopped at the well, washing the road’s dust from his face and hands. There was a pleasant breeze that dried the damp from him as he walked toward the door. He stomped the dirt from his boots before he entered and pushed his cloak behind his shoulders. Out of habit he paused in the shadows of the entryway and glanced quickly about the room. The tension in his shoulders that he’d carried from his earlier meeting was eased by the bright light of the common room; the merry rise and fall of voices; the ordinary, familiar faces of customers and those who served them.

They were the faces of those who felt safe in their daily routine; who knew nothing of comings and goings. And for my small part, may they stay so…

Hithadan spied a table nestled out of the way in one of the corners. He made his way to it, his eyes flicking here and there as if expecting some face he had not yet found.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot's eyes shone at the thought of finding such a treasure. Why, if she did, she would then be the geatest topic of discussion in all the inns of the Shire and even beyond it, if the treasure was one worthy of interest. Of course, the finding would also generate many malicious gossips from the envious ones, but Meliot did not care much about that. She knew how to deal with gossipers.

Yet looking at the map, Meliot realised that there was not much hope in finding the treasure. The map looked, as Rowan had said, as if it had been made by a child. No doubt it had been made like this deliberately as a protection against anyone that found it and realised what it was. But even if they could read the map, there was still another problem. Meliot had to voice her fears aloud to her friend.

"Maybe we could read the map," she told Rowan, "but it would take too much time and the owner would soon find out about its dissappearance. And also, there is something else. The place on the map may not be in the Shire. Who knows in what forsaken land was the treasure found? What would we do then?"

[Folwren]

Dick’s eyes shone as Cir talked about the music. “Oh, we might find other fellows who play some music. I don’t think any of our instruments will fit you, but in accompaniment with some others, you’d make great music. Our songs are simple to what you’re used to, no doubt. Go find yourselves seats for now, though. Supper’s nearly ready to be served.”

He hurried away into the kitchen to see just how near dinner was. Passed him as he drew near the door and Dick made way.

“Hollo, Tollers! How was the catch? Never mind - deal with what you’ve got, then you can come bak to tell me.” He patted him on the shoulder as they passed each other and Tollers continued on out towards the Common Room and Dick went into the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, his nostrils twitching.

“What’s that I smell?” he asked, half eagerly half doubtfully. “Not mushrooms!”

“Mushrooms it is!” Cela told him from the stove. Dick hurried to her side. His mouth watered as he looked at the frying pan full of sizzling mushrooms. “Keep your nose out of it, Master Dick. I’ll let you know when they’re done.”

Dick grinned and went away obediently. “Hello, Jack,” he said to the man standing awkwardly by the kitchen table. “How was fishing?”

[Undómë]

Rowan pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath. It was true, she and Meliot could spend a good amount of time trying to figure out just where they thought that X might be, but it wouldn’t necessarily bring them any closer to the treasure.

And just get your head out of the clouds on that! she chided herself. You don’t even know that X means a treasure at all!! The old saw of not counting chickens before the eggs were hatched flashed through her thoughts.

‘But there’s no saying it isn’t a treasure, though, either,’ she murmured aloud. She looked over at her friend, realizing her comment must have made no sense.

‘What we need to do is try to chat that Jack fellow up. See if he can give us any clue about the map. Of course without actually referring to this particular map.’ Rowan shook her head, wondering how that might be done. ‘But in order to do that, we’ve first got to get the map back to his room. He might get suspicious if he can’t find it after we’ve talked about maps and such to him. Or....maybe, just maybe he’s the sort we can flatter a bit and he’d actually show us the map.’

As they sat talking and thinking, Rowan became aware that the angle of the sun had changed. ‘Blast it! I’ll be in for it now! Supper’s ready, I’m sure. And what with Prim unable to help out, they’ll be wanting me in the kitchen and common room even as we speak.’ She stood up and straightened out her apron, brushing down the wrinkles.

‘You know, most, or really I should say all, will be in the common room for the evening meal. I’m sure Jack will, too.’ She folded the map up carefully, taking one last look at it to fix it in her mind's eye; then handed it back to her friend as she motioned for Meliot to follow her back into the inn. ‘Maybe you could sneak back to his room and put the map back.....whattaya say?’

[Envinyatar]

Jack awkwardly shifted from foot to foot in the busy atmosphere of the kitchen. Tollers had gone off and left him wondering if he should offer to help or just go out to the common room and sit down. He thought he might like to help out, it would make Tollers’ duties go more quickly, but he eyed the cook as she moved about the kitchen fixing this and that and wondered if she would even allow him to touch a plate or bowl again. He clenched his hands and unclenched them, willing the ten fingers not to be so clumsy.

Just as he cleared his throat and was about to ask her, the innkeeper sailed into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Jack,’ he said. ‘How was fishing?’

‘That Tollers is some fisherman!’ Jack returned, his face lighting up at the sight of Master Boffin. ‘He found us a good spot. And as you can see we brought back plenty of trout for supper. Along with a nice basket of mushrooms!’ He paused, not quite sure how to voice his offer. ‘Say,’ he plunged on, gesturing about the busy kitchen. ‘I noticed you’re a little short on help. Just Mistress Brandybuck for the cooking and Tollers for the serving. Think there might be something I could do...to lend a hand?’

[Arry]

Will scuttled about the kitchen, trying to keep out of the way of the others. He was somewhat hungry, needing just a little something to take the edge off. And something he could carry easily with his one good arm.

He got one of the small baskets used for gathering eggs from the hens and lined it with a clean kitchen towel. Some thick slices of bread from the counter, a small wedge of crumbly cheese from a cupboard, three apples from just inside the pantry. He had a pitcher of water back in the stable, that would be drink enough for this evening.

Grabbing the half-filled basket securely by the handle he made his way back out the kitchen door, intending to hurry back to his little room. His eye caught the still sleeping form of Primrose as she dozed on the wooden bench. Setting down the basket he reached in and pulled out one of the apples, polishing it up a bit on his shirt. He placed it on her lap, near one of her hands.

With a quick step, then, he was off with his own little supper to the company of the horses, ponies, and the goat.

[Lilly]

Taffy had assured the younger boy that the tale of the dragon would indeed be scary. Or at least he hoped so. Whatever good would a story of dragons be if it were not the sort that sent chills up your back.

‘But all you have to remember is,’ he told Dorlind, ‘it’s just a story and a long done one if I understood him right.’

He’d finished the two little whistles by the time he heard his mother call him and Seren in. They had three little holes each, and on Dorlind’s he had carved the outline of a little bird and on Daisy’s, a flower to match her name. ‘That way she can’t take yours if she’s lost her own and say it’s hers.’ He looked at Seren as she came running toward the porch. ‘Girls can be quite sneaky you know,’ he said to Dorlind, handing him the whistles. ‘And fathers always seem to side with them!’ He nodded his head in a knowing way at his friend. ‘Anyways, we’ve got to go in now and have supper.’

Taffy stood up and took his sister by the hand. As they hurried to the door he called back over his shoulder. ‘See you after the meal’s done!’

[Glirdan]

"Where have you traveled from, Kár?’ Bávor asked, pouring a round of ale from the new pitcher. ‘We’re heading eastward, toward the Blue Mountains. We’ve heard, even in The Lonely Mountain, that there are interesting caverns to be seen beneath them. Carved out long ago, perhaps by some of our fathers’ fathers and before."

"Well, in answer to your first question, I come from the place to which you desire to see," he answered. " And I must say that I don't remember anything of too much interest underneath the Mountains. Mind you, I never really took to mining. I'm more of an adventurer than anything. I want to go and explore before settling down to mining and having a wife and children," he said cheerfully.

He looked at the other three Dwarves. They looked far older than he. They even looked to be of a different bloodline. "By any chance, would you three be of the line of Dain?" he asked curiously. He really wanted to know more about them and that line. "Perhaps we are related in some way..." he thought silently to himself.

[Noinkling]

Bívor and Bávor exchanged a puzzled look. Nothing interesting beneath the mountains? Now there was something neither of them had ever heard, much less experienced. They were quite at a loss for words. Reflexively, their hands reached down to rest on the handle of the pickaxes resting against their chairs.

It was Skirvir, the youngest of the three, who spoke up. ‘An adventurer, is it? We’re on a bit of an adventure ourselves; though it was not without some difficulty that we left the halls beneath the Lonely Mountain.’ He looked at his two cousins and grinned. ‘We are scarce into our seventh decade, each of us. And our fathers spoke long and hard against our going. But we stood firm and so our own little adventure was granted.’

‘We had always heard that the halls and caverns beneath the Blue Mountains were long and deep,’ said Bívor ‘with many branchings and caverns. Dwarves of old brought out precious metals, shining jewels and made many beautiful things. We were hoping to see some of that. The mines where they delved. The others are most likely long gone, though not in our imaginings.’

Skirvir’s eyes glinted at the thought of the craftsmanship that must have flowed from the forges and workrooms of those ancient halls. His fingers twitched at the thought of working with such metals and gems. And his mind turned over another thing Kár had said to them – something about a wife and children. He sounded like a man who might have the opportunity to have a wife. Perhaps women flourished beneath the Blue Mountains. Aulë knew they were scarce as the mithril of Khazad-dum where he and his cousins were from.

Bávor reached into an inner pocket of his vest and brought out a flat, silvered flask. ‘How about a taste of Dwarven spirits?’ he ask grinning at the other three men. He offered the flask to Kár first, motioning for him to pass it on. While he waited for the flask to come round to him, Bávor nodded his head, thinking about the last thing Kár had asked.

‘The line of Dain; isn’t that what you asked about?’ Bávor looked at his brother and cousin. ‘I suppose you could place us there. . . sort of. More like a small fissure off another a fair sized vein branching off the mother-lode.’ Bívor and Skirvir laughed at the analogy. ‘And how about you, Kár? How do you trace your family line?’

[Tevildo]

For the past hour, Tollers had given no thought whatsoever to his coin. He had been far too busy to think about it. Everyone in the Inn seemed to be hungry and thirsty, and demanding their bread and ale as quickly as he could deliver it to them. Tollers had tried to please everyone and had run from table to table, but still he was sure that he had forgotten something. Leaning against the bar and sighing, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand until suddenly he remembered what he had forgotten. Grabbing one of the flasks of nut brown ale, he rushed over to where the Dwarves were seated and held out the pitcher towards them.

"Excuse me, Master Dwarves. I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation. But one of you....I believe it was the gentleman over there," Tollers pointed towards Bávor, "asked for more ale. I've been so busy serving and only got around to bringing it now. I'm very sorry to be so late." Tollers set the pitcher down on the table and stepped back as he caught sight of the tiny bottle of spirits that the Dwarves were passing around between them. "Ah... I see you've already found another brew. Shall I take this ale away then, or would you still like it with the rest of your meal? Either way is fine. Only I'd be much obliged if you could kindly give me the sixpence for the first flask so we can square up your account."

He held out his hand awaiting payment.

[Noinkling]

The Dwarves were unanimous in their clamor that Tollers should leave the ale. And Bávor nudged Skirvir as the server held out his hand. ‘You’ve got the pouch on you, remember. Fetch out the sixpence the lad’s asking for. Or twice the sixpence, now that we’ve gotten the extra pitcher.’

Skirvir fished the leather pouch from out his waistband and poured a number of coins into his large hand. ‘Hmmm,’ he rumbled, pushing them about on his palm. ‘Don’t seem to have any Shire pence.....buuut, as I recall, twelve pence is the same as a silver shilling. And here is one of our own shilling sort of coins.’ He placed the weighty silver coin in the Hobbit’s hand.

‘Go on, look it over. It’s good Dwarven minted silver from the forges beneath The Lonely Mountain. See here (http://www.forodrim.org/gobennas/heraldry/Durin.gif) on the one side it has the hammer and anvil and on the other is Good King Durin’s crown and the seven stars.’

Bívor spoke up before the server left the table. ‘If you would, laddie, bring us some bowls of that fine smelling fish stew. And how about some more bread and a pot of honey, too?’

'Now Kár, what were you going to say?' Skirvir asked, turning his attention back to their table-guest once Tollers had gone off.

[Folwren]

“I noticed you’re a little short on help,” Jack said. “Just Mistress Brandybuck for the cooking and Tollers for the serving. Think there might be something I could do...to lend a hand?’

“Help? Oh, yes, I’m sure you could,” Dick replied, his face brightening. This Jack fellow wasn’t quite so rough and useless as his appearance had first made him seem. What was more, he was not so bad looking, cleaned up and put into some clean clothes. “We’ve got lots of customers here today,” he continued, “and Rowan just seems to have disappeared. She’ll be back shortly, no doubt. But, until then, why don’t you run out to the Common Room with me and we’ll see what needs to be done. Before hand, though, we’ve better settle if this will be done for payment for your room. I am quite willing for that to be, but if you would rather be paid in coin and then pay that right back to me for the keep, then so be it. What do you say?”

Dorlind

Dorlind stood studying the two whistles that Taffy had pressed into his little hands. They were beautiful things, he thought. And the two separate carvings on the side made so much sense.

“What’ve you got, Dorly?” asked his sister, coming up to his side. Her little friend had gone in with her brother, Taffy, and she stood, catching her breath after the game of chaise. “Where’d you get those?”

“Taffy made them for us! One for you, and one for me. See, yours has a flower on it.” He handed hers to her. “And this one, with the bird on it, is mine. We’re not going to get them mixed up that way.”

“Sure, Dorlind!” Daisy said, taking her little present with delight. “Taffy made these for us!”

“Yes, and he was also making something else and while he was there carving, a dwarf came up and said he would tell him a story about a dragon and Dorlind says it will be scary and he said I could listen to it! But he had to go in and eat supper and we should go in, too.”

Acting as Taffy had done, he took his sisters hand and led her towards the door. Daisy bounced along at his side, looking at her whistle and talking as she went. “A dwarf talked to him! I wish it’d been me! He’s going to tell a story? Can I listen Dorlind, can I, can I?”

They were coming into the common room now. Dolrind stopped just inside the door and looked over at her. “No, Daisy, you couldn’t listen! You’d be scared. Taffy says that it will be scary and whenever you get scared you always have to sleep with Mami and Papi and then I’m all by myself and I don’t know like that.”

“That’s just cause you get scared,” Daisy returned, sticking out her tongue.

“I do not!” Dorlind said, dropping her hand and stepping away. “You take that back!”

“I don’t have to ‘cause it’s true!”

Dorlind gave an angry shout and lunged towards her. Daisy let out a loud squeal somewhere between glee and fright and darted away, leading the chaise around the room. She dodged between tables, and under them a-times, and Dorlind went right after her, nearly catching her many times. Daisy popped up under one table, turned her head to see where Dorlind was, her feet still going, and suddenly –

“Oomph!” Daisy ejaculated as she ran straight into the side of a chair. Dorlind skidded to a stop three paces behind her, gasping and staring. Daisy turned her head and looked up. Her eyes became wide and her mouth opened. Looking down at her was an unfamiliar face of a red bearded dwarf.

[Noinkling]

Thunk!

Small as she was, the little girl knocked into his chair with a great deal of momentum. And large as he was, Skirvir could not help but turn to find the source of the commotion. His eyes at first saw no one, save a youngish lad standing and staring at him a few paces away. The Dwarf looked down, then, and found two bright brown eyes staring up at him.

Skirvir raised his brow and with one great hand reached down and grabbed up the wide-eyed child, sitting her down on the tabletop. ‘Someone’s let the pups loose!’ he chuckled, looking from the girl to the boy and back again.’

‘Is this how the greeting of newcomers is done here in the western lands?’ he asked.

‘Commendably bold,’ answered Bávor, nodding his head as if he’d given it his approval. ‘And certainly attention getting,’ added Bívor. ‘Though I thank my lucky hammer that it was only one of the younger, smaller folk that wished to give us such a welcome.’

‘And what might be your name, little missy?’ Skirvir asked, turning his attention back to the girl. He stroked his long red beard in a considering manner. ‘And you, little master,’ he went on, looking over toward the boy, ‘have you come to give greeting, also?’

Beneath their bushy eyebrows, the eyes of the Dwarves danced with amusement.

[Forest Elf]

Gable felt ignored, she had asked if there was any help needed and there they go on and ignore her. Gable thought back to earlier that day, when she heard Primrose cry out for help. Before that, Will had been patching the roof, but now, he can’t from his sprained wrist.

That’s it! Gable thought to herself. I can finish patching the roof! She walked outside, and over to the stables. She would finish patching the roof, she wanted to and who knows what can happen while on a roof, when supper is just being started.

Gable righted the ladder and balanced it. She started up it, noticing the fifth wrung hung loose on its spot in the ladder, she skipped it, and reached for the one over it, and stepped over it.

She was on the roof, the wind blowing her hair. Now she knew she could, so long as no one came looking for her, or saw her. She started patching the roof, and when she got to a spot on the roof, close to the edge, she tore the shingling off, and heard them land.

She put up more shingles and after the third, she reached over to grab another shingle, but couldn’t. Gable looked at her sleeve and blinked. She couldn’t believe it, already the third shingle and she had made a mistake! She had nailed her sleeve to the roof under the shingle, and the nails were too tight to just take them back out again.

Gable turned to call out for help, instead she slipped and her sleeve was the only thing holding her onto the roof. Gable grabbed onto her sleeve, like a rope now that it’s tightened as she dangled from the roof, her lower arm on the roof, and her elbow bent at the edge of it. Gable shouted, “Help! Please, someone help me!”

[Dimturiel]

Meliot agreed reluctantly to Rowan's proposal. The last thing she wanted was to talk to that person, and the thought of having to go again into his room made her shiver. Yet she hid her feelings from her friend. She had no choice now but to put the map back. Therefore, she made for Jack's room. She stood a long time listening at the door, until she finally convinced herself that the room was empty.

Meliot cautiously opened the door and looked inside. Indeed, no one was there. She entered the room, and put the map back where she had found it. She sighed with relief when that was done. "Come to think of it, you're no better than your brothers." she said to herself."Always sneaking around, searching for trouble. You should be ashamed of yourself, Meliot."

But it was too late now for any feeling of remorse for her behaviour. For one thing, she had to get out of there. She walked out, closing the door behind her, and ran all the way down the corridor to the common room, to meet Rowan.

[Celuien]

Afternoon naps were always pleasant. They were all the more pleasant when they ended with a surprise. Primrose awoke, looked around, and smiled. A shiny red apple lay next to her hand. No one was nearby, but she thought she could guess who had brought her the treat. Will. Primrose reached for her crutches and peeked into the kitchen window. He wasn't there. Her eyes drifted toward the stable, and she hopped towards the door, leaning on her crutches. As she came up to the door, she looked up to the roof and spotted Gable. Primrose shook her head. Climbing to the roof wasn't the best idea. Two accidents were enough for one day. But she held her tongue and went into the stable.

A moment later, she wished she hadn't kept silent. Before she even had a chance to say "Will", a clatter on the roof announced yet another mishap. Primrose whirled as quickly as she could with her crutches and looked back outside to find Gable dangling from the roof and shouting.

"Hold on there, lass! Don't fall. We've had enough of that today." Balancing on a single crutch, she pushed the ladder closer to Gable. "Steady your feet on the ladder. It's just next to your foot."

[Glirdan]

‘The line of Dain; isn’t that what you asked about?’ Bávor looked at his brother and cousin. ‘I suppose you could place us there. . . sort of. More like a small fissure off another a fair sized vein branching off the mother-lode.’ Bívor and Skirvir laughed at the analogy. ‘And how about you, Kár? How do you trace your family line?’

"Well, I really do-" he was interrupted by the Hobbit Tollers as he came over to ask if they wanted ale. He awaited patiently as the others rumbled for more ale. 'Now Kár, what were you going to say?' Skirvir asked.

"Well, as I was say-" Thunk! Just then, a young Hobbit lass ran into their table. He chuckled quietly as the Hobbit lass popped out from under the table. "Well hello there young one! Don't mind these three, they're just teasing you. They really do like you," he said and smiled broadly. "Go on. Tell us who young un's are."

[Rose]

‘Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day!’ exclaimed Granny Greenhill as the cart turned up the short path to the inn. Someone, an Elf it looked to be, was hanging from the roof of the stable. And ‘Land sakes!’, if that wasn’t some lass on crutches trying to help the Elf down.

Penstemon Greenhill clasped onto Tanni’s arm and pointed over to the unusual scene. The ride into Stock had been fairly uneventful until now. And she’d felt she and the two young Big Folk had gotten to know each other a little better as the cart had rolled along. Now she urged Rhys to hurry over to where the double catastrophe was about to occur.

‘Hurry and get out and help those two!’ she directed in an anxious voice, as Rhys brought the cart to a halt nearby and set the brake.

[piosenniel]

Rhys ran to the ladder and asked the Hobbit with the crutch to step out of harm’s way. He moved the ladder to where the Elvish woman was suspended from the roof and climbed up a few rungs, bringing one of her feet to bear on one of the ladders top rungs. He climbed down quickly then and steadied the ladder for her.

‘Can you get down now, Miss?’ he called up to her. ‘Is there something else we can do to help?’

[Folwren]

Before Daisy quite knew what was happening – before she had even overcome the shock of running into the dwarf in fact – she had been swept up by powerful hands and placed on the tabletop. From this perch she could straight into the dwarf’s face, and for a few moments, her entire attention was locked on those eyes. He and two other dwarves were speaking, but none of their words registered until he asked her what her name was.

“And you, little master,” he went on, looking over toward the boy, “have you come to give greeting, also?”

The siblings glanced at each other, their eyes wide and their faces confused – both unsure quite how to answer.

“Don't mind these three,” a fourth dwarf said. Daisy turned her head to look at him. He was smiling kindly. “They're just teasing you. They really do like you. Go on. Tell us who you young un's are."

“Daisy,” she said, shyly shrinking back. She looked around again at the dwarf holding her gently. “Daisy Boffin, sir. I’m sorry I ran into your chair. Dorlind was chasing me.” She waved her hand towards her brother.

“I woulda caught her, too,” Dorlind said, walking forward the last few paces. He stood right by the table now and stared around from one dwarven face to the next. “I’m Dorlind Boffin. Daisy's my little sister. Are you going to tell us a dragon story tonight?”

[Forest Elf]

“Actually, I can’t get down… When I was patching the roof, I accidentally nailed my sleeve under the shingle. So, I’m kind of stuck up here, for awhile.” Gable replied, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Gable climbed onto the roof awkwardly, from her sleeve still being nailed to the roof. She sat down, next to the shingle that she had accidentally nailed her sleeve under, and the nail was too tight for her to remove.

[Arry]

There were loud voices and the sound of someone moving along on the roof. Will set down the apple he was munching on and went out to investigate. There was Primrose, balancing on her crutches, and Rhys, who’d come in with the cart and two horses, Both were looking up at the roof where Gable sat, looking quite forlorn, and a little embarrassed.

A brief conference with Rhys, and the explanation that the Elf had managed to nail her sleeve to the roof was discussed. Will stepped quickly back into the stable and fetched a small crowbar along with a pair of pliers from the work-table.

‘You’ll have to be the one to go up,’ he said to Rhys. ‘Got a bum arm myself, or I’d do it.’ He stepped to the ladder and put his right hand on it to steady it for the man.

[piosenniel]

Rhys waved to the cart where his sister and Granny Greenhill waited. He stuffed the pliers in his pocket and secured the little crowbar in the waistband of his breeches. Will had cautioned him about one of the lower steps on the ladder; it being the cause of the afternoon’s mishap to Primrose and to Will. Rhy’s legs were much longer than the Hobbits’ and he stepped passed the broken rung easily.

In a short time he had climbed up to the roof and onto it. In the fading evening light he managed to see where the nail had pinned down the sleeve. Inserting the little crowbar under its head, he pried up the offending spike and used the pliers to pull it all the way off.

With her sleeve now freed from captivity, he helped Gable to the edge of the roof and down onto the ladder.

[Undómë]

Rowan was so distracted as she waited for Meliot to replace the map and hurry back out that she mixed up a number of orders. Ale had gone to a table who had ordered tea and fish stew to a Hobbit from Stock who’d only wanted some bread and butter to go with his fried mushrooms. Red-faced, she had busily explained she’d had some rather bad news that day and just wasn’t herself. When pressed for details, though, she simply looked solemn and sighed and shook her head in a grave manner.

She had just finished righting her mistakes when Meliot came hurrying toward her. ‘Done?’ she whispered to her friend as she drew near. Meliot’s face seemed white as a sheet, and Rowan feared the worst. That somehow Jack or someone else had caught Meliot out in her burgling. though it’s not really burgling, is it, if you’re putting something back . . . she reasoned to herself.

But Meliot shook her head in the affirmative, and Rowan let out the breath she’d been holding. She took her friend by the arm and led her to a table. ‘Enough excitement for today, eh? You just sit right down here. I’ll bring you a nice mug of nut brown ale to steady your nerves and a plate of fried mushrooms and bread.’ She raised her brow in question. ‘I could manage a bowl of fish stew, too, if you’d like.’

The attention of the two lasses were drawn to the kitchen door as it opened out into the common room. There was Jack! With Master Boffin! Rowan looked away quickly not wanting to appear to be staring their way.

[Envinyatar]

Jack recalled a few of his manners and opened the door to the common room, allowing the innkeeper to pass through before him. ‘I think,’ said Jack, having given some brief consideration to the offer Master Boffin had made, ‘that I’d like to work for my room. Though, I was wondering if we might come to some agreement about having a bit of food, too.’

He looked round the common room at the guests, noting that the server lass who’d seen him to his bath earlier . . . Rowan, that’s what she called herself . . . that she’d been glancing his way and then away quickly. ‘Now I wonder what that’s all about,’ he murmured to himself. He shrugged it off and turned back to his conversation with the innkeeper.

‘So, what would you like me to do? Shall I bring the folk drinks?’ He was really hoping that he would not be asked to go into the kitchen to get food. Cela was in the kitchen, and as he’d noted before, she scared him.

[Noinkling]

‘Well now, I suppose we could manage a story for you tonight...’ Skirvir nodded, looking towards his cousins. ‘But dragons?’ He moved his head from one child to the other. ‘They’re great, fiercesome creatures, you know. Not given to niceties. And they’ve great long teeth, very sharp. And claws to match. Their great bellies hold a burning fire and sometimes they breathe out those flames, setting whatever is in their path on fire.’

He leaned back a bit in his chair and measured the girl and boy with the length of his thumb. His eyes gave them each a considering look. ‘Why the both of you would make barely a toothsome snack for some hungry wyrm.’

Skirvir lifted Daisy from the table and set her down gently by her brother. ‘You’re young pups, little mistress, little master. And I’m not wanting to get in any trouble with your mother or father. Perhaps you should see to asking them first about whether they want you listening to stories about dragons first. Agreed?’

He laughed and pointed to Bívor before they could answer. ‘My cousin, here, Bívor, used to get so scared when one of his uncles would tell stories that we’d have to leave two little lanterns burning at night where he slept – to drive away any scary shadows!’

Bávor chuckled at his brother’s expense while Bívor simply huffed and puffed a bit and shook his head as if to say it was all a grand lie.

[Mithalwen]

The boy Cir, temporarily vanquished, and ignored by his sister who was discussing details with Dick. took himself and his beer off and folding himself in to the low windowseat he nursed his pint and his sorrows. He didn't want to sing and he didn't want to play his sister's stupid whistle. He blamed himself for orchestrating their departure but he never thought that Cir would extend a couple of hours exploration into a few days absence. And now as usual he was caught.

He looked through the window watching the light fade. Wondering what would happen when the party regrouped as the stars opened to eat and sing together and they were properly missed. He didn't mind singing as part of a group so much - it was only when he sang with Cir that the now much greater contrast between thier voices seemed so conspicuous, another difference that would become more marked as they grew up. Even to himself Cir could not use the word matured.

He was tiring of always being in strife .... maybe it was time to accept the differences and become Carantilion..... however before he could get far with such an uncharacteristically serious train of thought he took proper notice of the dwarves for the first time. He sniggered to himself remembering how Cir and he had sat in the trees of Rivendell and made fun of the ones who had brought Mr Bilbo with them.... there was somthing about a dwarvish beard - and the unbelievable rumour that even dwarf women had them that just seemed too ridiculous to be true. He smiled for the first time since his sister had revealed her plan and when he caught her eye he inclined his head briefly in the direction of the Naugrim and knew she shared the memory.

[Dimturiel]

Meliot tried to steady her nerves. She felt anoyed with herself, falling apart like that. And worse, she could draw atention to herself. "I'm sure you look exactly like our young Tom, after he has stolen strawberries from the neighbour's garden" she tought in an attempt to encourage herself. Well, after some ale and some mushrooms, she would feel better. And a bowl of fish stew! Yes, that would make her day. She nodded to Rowan and managed a smile.

At that moment the kitchen door opened and in came master Boffin with Jack of all people! Meliot felt uneasy. He was not there to complain about someone burglaring his room, was he? But maybe not. He did not look as if he knew that someone had taken something from him. Meliot looked at Rowan, a questioning look in her eyes.

"You don't think he's here about us, do you?" she asked her friend. "You don't suppose he somehow found out about what we have just done?"

[Kath]

Still standing at the counter even though Dick had left her Cir looked over at her brother. She hadn't meant to upset him, she'd really thought that staying here and having some fun would cheer him up a bit. He seemed so low at the moment, though she couldn't fathom the reason. Still, maybe she should have talked to him about her plan rather than springing it on him, he always wanted to be in the know as much as she did, and tended to get equally annoyed when he wasn't.

Suddenly she saw him smile as he caught her eye and nodded toward the Dwarves sitting at the table. The mischievous glint in her eye had her remembering a few years back to the last time she had seen the race. Glad that Cir was looking happier she shot a grin at him and mouthed a few words of one of the songs she had sung. Realising what she was about to do her brother shook his head to try and dissaude her, but couldn't stop the growing smile.

Cir waited until the hobbit children had disappeared from the table, not wanting to interrupt a conversation, and then stepped up next to the Dwarves, making them jump as she burst into song.

"O! What are you doing?
And why are you staying?
If you don't plan on leaving,
We could use your help playing!"

[Folwren]

Daisy took a few steps back as the dwarf put her down. He smiled at the two of them. “You’re young pups, little mistress, little master. And I’m not wanting to get in any trouble with your mother or father. Perhaps you should see to asking them first about whether they want you listening to stories about dragons first. Agreed? My cousin, here, Bívor,” he added, chuckling a great, deep chuckle, “used to get so scared when one of his uncles would tell stories that we’d have to leave two little lanterns burning at night where he slept - to drive away any scary shadows!”

Dorling and Daisy didn’t know whether to believe this tale or not. All they could manage was to stare all the more as all the dwarves but Bívor laughed, and Bívor gave them a look very easily interpreted to mean ‘Don’t believe a word they’re telling you!’

Dorlind recovered his wits the fastest. “We’ll ask Papi,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll mind!”

“No, Papi won’t mind. But Dorlind gets scared, too, sometimes, when he hears scary stories,” Daisy winked slyly, a funny and unexpected movement on the part of the five year old. She grinned before turned and walking quickly away.

“I don’t get scared,” Dorlind said quickly, backing away. “I’ll ask Papi. I hope we’ll be able to hear a story. So long!” As quickly as he thought polite, then, he turned and trotted after his sister. He caught up to her quickly and whispered furiously in her ear. “I do not get scared! I told you earlier!”

“Never mind,” she said, giggling. “There’s Papi, let’s ask him!”

They ran forward, around the bar, and to where Dick stood speaking with Jack.

“Papi!” they both cried together as they ran up to him, stopping just short of colliding with him. “Those Dwarves over there?” “They know stories!” “About dragons!” “Can we listen to them?” “Please?” “I won’t be scared, I promise!” “And they said that if you said-”

“Hold on, hold on!” cried Dick, laughing and placing a hand on each of the twins’ heads. “One second and then when I finish with Mr. Jack here, I’ll hear you one at a time. Now, Jack, I think you’d be quite a help to Tollers if you worked out here. Go and try to catch up to the lad and ask him to show you how to manage things and you’ll get along capitally. Better let Tollers handle the drinks, it’s mighty tricky not to spill it sometimes when there are a great many orders. You’ll manage.

“The work will pay off for your keep and probably enough even for your food. Don’t worry about that, though. We’ll figure something out. For now, help Tollers. Thanks mightily.”

[Firefoot]

Cela had never quite realized just how much she enjoyed having Primrose’s – or anybody’s, really – company in the kitchen while they worked. Certainly, Dick, Tollers, and others were in and out of the kitchen fairly frequently, but by way of conversation she had little else to talk to than the vegetables. Instead, she had often found herself humming a familiar tune or talking to herself.

“Bit of this, bit of that,” Cela now murmured as she added herbs to the large pot of steaming fish stew. Tollers had brought in a more than enough fish for the stew that was smelling ever more appetizing as it cooked. Even more tempting, however, was the fry pan of mushrooms that had caught Dick’s attention earlier. Cela picked one out of the pan to taste and silently declared the mushrooms done and every bit as tasty as they smelled. Not that she had really needed a taste to tell, but she could never be too sure – not where mushrooms were concerned, anyway. These combined with the bread left from the afternoon meal completed the supper; all that remained was for it to be served.

She ducked out of the kitchen to inform Dick of this and found him talking with that Man Tollers had befriended. She hoped that Dick did not intend to set him working in the kitchens again; she had found him rather blundering with the plates, as she imagined most Big Folk like him must be, and the kitchen really was not meant to hold such large workers…

“Food’s all ready,” she said, “and if everything else is set, I can start dishing up some plates…” Then her gaze darted towards Jack and back to Dick with her eyebrows raised, silently asking if there was anything she ought to know.

[Forest Elf]

“Thanks.” Gable said when they were on the ground again. Now that she thought about it, it was probably a good thing her sleeve was nailed there, or she would have fallen… Then again, she’d never of been in that situation if she’d never climbed up there in the first place, yet she couldn’t resist. She had to make herself useful, or she’d just go off wandering again. Like her mother was when she was young…and alive.

Gable suddenly remembered the pony. Odd, she hadn’t thought about it all day, when usually she would be worrying her head off about stuff like that. Must be because of all the commotion, and unexpected visitors from Rivendell, Cir and Cir. She was glad to see them again, yes. But in seeing them again, it brought up old memories of times at Rivendell. Running off on a new adventure, riding all day without a care in the world, her parents always telling her not to wander off to far to no extent, and no use. She wandered no matter how much they told her. At times, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been her fault that they died. That she should have listened and they’d still be here. Yet, she wouldn’t be here, in the beautiful and peaceful Shire, and made the friends she has now.

[Celuien]

Once Gable's feet were safely on firm ground, Primrose let out a sigh of relief. She knew only too well the effects of a fall and would have been sorry to see another dweller at the Golden Perch harmed.

Will still lingered at the other side of the ladder. Primrose hopped closer, reached into her pocket and pulled out the apple she had found in her lap earlier. A soft twinkle came into her eyes. A corner of her apron served to polish the apple again, though the bright red peel already reflected the afternoon sun almost as brightly as the waters of a still pond.

"Thank you for the apple, Will," she said, and laughed gently as Will was suddenly flustered by her acknowledgement of the gift. "Don't look so surprised. There aren't many here as would take the trouble to shine up an apple for me as bright as you did." Primrose suddenly found herself blushing again as she went on, "But an apple always tastes sweeter if there's someone to talk to while you're eating it. Would you like some company?" She added quickly, "It's lonely out of the kitchen."

[Arry]

Now had it been yesterday, Will would have had no problem inviting Prim in to share an apple. But somehow, since this morning, his ordinary, dependable, routine life had gone slightly askew. He found himself quite tongue-tied and somehow the area under his collar had grown quite hot.

We…we’d be alone in there! And have mercy! Wasn’t she standing there looking at him, her eyes all twinkly. Were they twinkly before and he hadn’t noticed? He couldn’t remember.

Will managed somehow to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and squeaked out, ‘Company?’ He brought his fist to his mouth and coughed, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

‘Company, yes...that would be nice,’ he managed. ‘But, you know,’ he went on, ‘the floor in the stable’s pretty uneven, and I wouldn’t want you to fall again.’ He touched her lightly on the elbow, saying, ‘May I?’ offering support. ‘Why don’t we go on into the kitchen? I didn’t get any of the stew.’ ‘And,’ he grinned at Prim, his hunger lending him confidence, ‘I’d sure like a few more of the mushrooms Cela fried.’

He paused for a moment – the thought suddenly striking him that perhaps she might have her own druthers about where she wanted to have her meal.

‘Or…we could just go into the common room. See who’s there. What do you think?’

[Noinkling]

Two pairs of dark eyes turned quickly to consider the source of the loud noise. An Elf, of course! The blighters were good at sneaking up on folk. thought Bívor, turning back to look at his brother. Bávor stroked his chin as he looked the singer up and down. Both pushed back their chairs a bit and flicked their gazes toward Skirvir. Their cousin was not overly fond of Elves. Overbearing; rude, he thought them. And the name “Naugrim”, which was so often used by the Elves, grated on him each time he heard it said.

Skirvir’s eyes were seemingly drawn to a small puddle of ale on the table. With his index finger, he traced a spiral, in and out and in once again. ‘So,’ he spoke at last, his brow furrowed, questioning. ‘Do I have the right of it? You Elves are in need of Dwarven help?’

[Envinyatar]

Cela’s gaze had darted towards Jack and back to Dick; her eyebrows raised. Jack squirmed a bit under her scrutiny. Buck up, boyo! he chided himself. You’ve got to help out if you’re to stay at the inn. And this is what needs doing at the moment.

He’d followed Master Dick’s advice and sought out Tollers. They’d made an agreement that Tollers would set up the trays for him to bring out to the folk; that way allowing him to avoid the further eagle-eyed look-over of the cook. Jack had done fairly with this system, picking his way carefully between the tables as he delivered the bowls of stew and bread and mushrooms.

For the most part the meal had gone passably. With only one small mishap of a dropped bowl, luckily empty, just outside the kitchen door that had simply jumped from his tray to spite him. Jack had grabbed the broom and dustpan quick as a wink and tidied the pieces up; wiping up what little spatter there was with a spare bar towel. He’d placed the pieces in the wooden dustbin behind the bar, figuring to himself that it was only one bowl and no need to be letting Mistress Cela know.

He hadn’t time to keep tab on Tollers; the fellow seemed a bit preoccupied to Jack. And he wondered if he was going to hold true to their agreement and keep mum on the coin he’d found.

Another call from a table of Stock folk drew his attention and he nodded at them. Cries of ‘More fish stew, my good sir!’ rang out. Partly, Jack thought, because they hadn’t yet filled that hollow leg of theirs to the brimming; and partly, too, because they found it a novelty that one of the Big Folk was serving them.

Back to the kitchen he went, keeping his head down and his eyes on his work as he fetched the stew and another basket of bread himself.

[Folwren]

“Food’s all ready,” Cela informed him, giving him a piercing glance for goodness knows what. “And if everything is set, I can start dishing up some plates.” Her eyes flicked briefly in the direction of the Man standing there and Dick suddenly understood completely. He smiled, as winningly as he could.

“Why, Cela, that’s wonderful. I think if you think all is set and ready, then it is. Go ahead. Run on in there and start dishing things up, I’ll be in shortly to double check that everything is prepared.”

Cela turned in a small huff and Dick lifted his eyebrows after her before turning back to Jack. “Run along now,” he said, nodding his head towards Tollers, busy about the tables. “If we have any further questions to discuss, we can later.”

Jack went and Dick turned to go into the kitchen. He braced himself for the storm as he stood in the doorway, seeing Cela spooning steaming spoon fulls of the stew into the wooden bowls with no little impatience.

“A’right,” said Dick, walking forward. “What’s eating you?”

[Celuien]

In the flurry of activity that followed Gable's near accident, Primrose hadn't noticed the lengthening shadows that marked how many hours had passed. The day was heading well into afternoon, and Primrose's appetite had grown far beyond an apple. Mushrooms and stew, however, sounded perfect.

"Mushrooms! Now, I say that a meal isn't a meal unless there's a nice plate of mushrooms with it. We ought to go in and have a nice plate and a bowl of stew too." Primrose thought for a moment about where to go - the kitchen or common room.

Will was being a bit odd. What was behind that cough and confused blurt of 'company'? With her usual humor returning, the twinkle in Primrose's eyes doubled. Poor Will. Cela would be in the kitchen. Cela could help Primrose decide if there was anything behind Will's apparent confusion besides worry about the condition of the stable floor. And they had gone from breakfast to supper without another word about Cela's plan for him. A nice dinner in the kitchen, under Cela's eyes and ears, was the perfect opportunity to bring it back to light.

Besides, Primrose was growing tired of her exile from the kitchen. She was curious to find out how Cela was managing without her help. And too, she missed the cook's conversation. They would go back to the kitchen.

"You're most likely right about my hurting my leg again. I'm none too steady on these crutches, and an uneven floor would probably have me falling pretty fast. The kitchen sounds about right. And it would be like going home again for me. Didn't really want to come out and rest in the first place." She laughed and leant slightly on Will's arm. "Let's go in."

[Firefoot]

Cela was already working herself into a right temper by the time Dick walked in. Not asking my input, as if this isn’t my kitchen as much as – even more than – his. Sending the clumsy giant in to handle the dishes. Could have put him out in the stable – or to finish repairing the roof, there’s an idea – instead… And now he walked in, wanting to know what the problem was, as if it wasn’t as plain as the nose on his face! She was not bothered by the thought that he could not, of course, easily see his own nose.

“I’ll tell you what’s eating me,” she said, glaring at him. “That fellow you’ve had in here, that’s who – Jack. Broken more dishes in a day than have been broken in the past month.” As if to accentuate the point, she heard another crash just outside the kitchen door and winced. “There’s another. You might have asked him if he’d ever worked in some sort of kitchen – any sort! – before sending him in here to work with dishes,” she accused, jabbing her spoon in Dick’s direction and not even minding the little bits of broth that flew from it. “As if I don’t have enough else to deal with right now!”

She spun back around to her stew and in doing so caught sight of the very last people she would have chosen to hear that: Will and Primrose, coming in from outside.

[Folwren]

‘Oh, so that’s it!’ Dick almost said, a longing to defend himself instantly rising in his mind. Why was she suddenly so blazing mad about it? How was he to know she didn’t like the fellow? She hadn’t said anything about it! Something about females – they always thought their minds were supposed to be read – but then when you did guess what they were thinking, they always got huffy about it!

As it turned out, Dick did not get half a chance to say anything. Cela ranted and raved, waving her spoon about in a most dangerous fashion, managed to splatter broth all over his vest front, and then as if to cap it off, Will and Primrose appeared in the doorway leading outside, just in time to hear her last few sentences.

“-Before sending him in here to work with dishes! As if I don’t have enough else to deal with right now!”

Cela finally turned away, furious, and stopped short when she saw the two young helpers in the doorway. Will and Primrose looked shocked and awkward, as well they might. There was a prolonged pause that sounded rather like a silence. Then Dick slowly and deliberately took out his pocket handkerchief and dabbed at the bit of broth on himself.

“Well, well,” he said, keeping his voice level. “It seems Miss Brandybuck and I have some things to discuss. Will, Prim – you do not mind if I ask you to step out for a few minutes? Unless you would like to put your input on the matter. I don’t know that it’s all that serious, but our dear cook seems to think it is.”

[Rose]

‘My, my! Now wasn’t that exciting!’ Penstemon’s bright eyes looked from Rhys to Tanni. ‘Not that I would want her to get hurt; but it’s not often you see a young Elf hanging from the roof by her sleeve, now is it?’ She stumped up the step of the porch leaning on her walking stick, and nodded at Rhys as he opened the door for both herself and his sister.

The heat from the fire washed over her as she entered the common room, along with the rise and fall of voices, the clatter of spoons against bowls, and the savory smells that came in bursts each time the kitchen door opened.

‘Mushrooms! And trout!’ Granny exclaimed. Just then a young Hobbit passed by with a tray of mugs foaming over with ale. ‘And I believe I’ll have one of those, too,’ she said pointing to the tray as it passed by. She craned her neck looking about the room.

‘Lots of Big Folk here. Can’t see over them. Can one of you see a good table for the three of us?’

[Arry]

‘As if I don’t have enough else to deal with right now!’

Will’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Mistress Brandybuck jabbing her cook spoon at Master Dick; that and the loud angry tone in which her words were couched.

He was just about to close the door and suggest to Prim they walk around to the main entrance when Master Dick spoke up. ‘It seems Miss Brandybuck and I have some things to discuss. Will, Prim – you do not mind if I ask you to step out for a few minutes? Unless you would like to put your input on the matter. I don’t know that it’s all that serious, but our dear cook seems to think it is.’

‘Input? No, I don’t think so.’ Will looked toward Prim, his brows raised. ‘Just looking for a bite to eat. Perhaps Prim and I will just follow up on your request and go off the common room.’ He gave Prim’s arm a little squeeze. ‘Shall we go?’

[Envinyatar]

Jack’s cheeks were flaming from the cook’s words. The tray of bowls, all brimming with fish stew, shook in his hands. And his hands had become all sweaty as they trembled. He looked down at the roiling contents of the bowls and felt his heart begin to race and lurch within his chest.

Gripping the tray all the tighter, he inched backwards out the door and into the common room. With a sigh of relief, he set the tray on the bar top and grabbed a dry bar towel to wipe his hands and face.

Tollers was just approaching the bar with a tray of his own filled with empty mugs. Jack waved him over and let him know what was going on in the kitchen between the innkeeper and the cook. ‘Can you help me, Tollers?’ he asked, his eyes sliding to the closed kitchen door. ‘The old dragon in the cave,’ he went on, ‘is all riled up. And as I live and breathe, I just don’t want to go back into her lair. But I don’t want to let Master Dick down either. Can you fetch the food for me? Bring it out here. Be happy to take it around.’

[Mithalwen]

Cir's keen elvish hearing had no difficulty in picking up the lyrics of his sister's song or the dwarf's response. He decided he had better intervene, hoping that he would not make matters worse. Still clutching his precious tankard of ale he made his way across the room swiftly on nimble feet and went to see if he could talk them away form trouble as way to into it.

"Please forgive my sister's intrusion," he said to the dwarf who had spoken. He seemed to be frowning as he traced a pattern on the table while the intent gaze of his companions was a bit disconcerting. "It is only that we are to sing for the company this evening and have no other instrument to accompany us save this whistle; now it is known to us from the visit to our home at Rivendell of Thorin Oakenshield and his companions that ...." here Cir hesitated since he had the wit to remember that Naugrim was not a term to be used to the face of one of that race.... unless you wished to offend, but he hesitated for a moment for an acceptable alternative. Althought he beer had helped loosen his tongue it had not increased his westron vocabulary so he had to improvise, "that the sons of Aule are fond of music and as craftsmen are seldom equalled, and perhaps you might have instruments that might bring enrichment to the evening's entertainment"

Having finished his speech he remembered a bit more of dwarvish customs from the visit of Mr Bilbo and his companions. "Carantilion Laicirith at your service" he added making a low bow which might have seemed a mockery had it not been for the earnestness of his expression. "And this is my sister Enpauriel Laicirith ... but mostly we are called Cir ...." his voice faded and he waited for a reaction or for his twin to interrupt.

[Celuien]

On hearing Cela's outburst, Primrose's face might have been the mirror image of Will's, mouth open, eyes as wide as saucers. Jabbing Master Dick was the last purpose Primrose would have thought Cela would find for her spoon. And the raised voice made her almost squirm where she stood.

"Shall we go?" Will said.

Prmrose quickly replied, "Yes. Let's." They left as hurriedly as her injured leg allowed and sat at a table in the common room.

"Dishes and spoons? I wonder what that was all about!" Primrose exclaimed softly under the din on the busy room. "I've never seen Cela in quite so much of a bother."

[Folwren]

Will and Primrose withdrew as quickly as they could manage (it was not terribly quickly, as Primrose’s injury kept her from being too swift) and the doorway was once again empty. Dick moved his eyes back to Cela. She stood with her back to him, stirring the stew swiftly with her spoon.

“Stop that, or you’ll break the fish into tiny little bits and no one will be able to find them,” he ordered. She stopped abruptly, but still did not turn to face him. Dick drew a very deep breath and let it out slowly before he walked to the table and sat down. His feet ached from being stood upon all day and he gratefully propped them up on the chair at a diagonal with him.

“Look, Cela,” he said in a soothing a voice as he could conjure up at the moment, “the poor chap needed help. You might not’ve seen him when he came in, but he was a mess and a poor one, too. I took his last coin for the breakfast that he had here this morning. I can’t very well send a fellow off with nothing in his pockets and even less in his stomach now, can I? What’s the harm of letting the fellow work if he’s a mind to? It’ll do him more good than it will do bad to your dishes.

“Well, maybe not,” he added immediately. “But be that as it may, we can get new bowls and plates if he breaks all of ours. Don’t worry, he’ll get less clumsy the more you let him work here. Bear with me, won’t you?”

[Undómë]

Rowan frowned as she saw Jack back out the kitchen door and set his tray on the bar top. The man seemed a bit frazzled. She narrowed her eyes, watching him. And were his hands shaking? It certainly seemed so. She saw him motion to someone, and there came Tollers. Hmmm….now what was that about? she wondered. She glanced quickly over to where Meliot sat. And what are they talking about…?

The front door opened and two familiar figures stood in the entryway. Primrose! And there at her side was Will, holding the door open and ushering her in. My goodness! And what were they doing here in the main room and not in the kitchen?

She watched as they took a table and settled themselves in. Prim was leaning toward Will, speaking, as Rowan drew near their table. ‘Say, you two! What’s up?’ she asked, leaving the question open ended.

[Noinkling]

Now Dwarves can be as clannish as any folk. And perhaps more so, since there are a certain number that harbor a deep resentment against those chosen to be the Firstborn. Much like any child taken in by a generous parent, there is bound to be some resentment against the natural children; a feeling of being considered second rate in the eyes of the adoptive parent. And of course, it is no help to the Dwarvish sense of pride that the Firstborn have an overweening and outspoken sense of superiority.

Bívor and Bávor huddled close to Skirvir, speaking in low undertones to their cousin. ‘They’re young ones, cousin,’ Bívor offered. ‘Wet behind the ears yet. We can afford them some measure of indulgence. Don’t you think?’ Bávor nodded, saying 'perhaps', and adding the word ‘brats’, and the observation that perhaps such spoiled behavior came of overly indulgent parents.

Skirvir rubbed his forehead, wondering whether it might be easier just to accommodate the Elves. And then perhaps they would go away. And he could go back to his pleasant conversation, his food, his ale, and his pipe.

So it was with some surprise to his two cousins that Skirvir looked up toward the Elves and offered their assistance. ‘My cousin Bívor here,’ he said raising his brows to the left, ‘he plays the flute. And Bávor, there, he has a very fine voice; knows many songs.’

Bívor and Bávor raised an eyebrow each at him. ‘And……..?’ one of them prompted.

‘And I will, of course, participate.’ He poured himself another mug of ale and took a deep drink from it. Placing it carefully down in front of him he rubbed his hands together vigorously. ‘I will clap.’

[Glirdan]

Kár was listening to the conversation. "And I will, of course, participate. I will clap." Kár noticed that he didn't seem to keen on participating.

"Well, Skivir, if it pleases you, I shall join you. That is, if you don't mind the company," he added. "And in this way," he thought to himself, "I'll be able to find out more and tell him more of my past."

[Kath]

Cir clapped her own hands in delight as the Dwarves agreed to join in, with their spokesperson having a sense of humour she'd never expected from one of that race.. She had of course heard the not quite so nice things said about her and her brother, but then the Naugrim weren't known to be the most friendly of folk, and they had at least lowered their voices first. In addition, she was quite willing to forgive them most insults since their agreement had put a smile back on her brother's face.

"Thank you!" She cried, beaming at them. "We must eat first for we promised the Innkeeper that we would try some of this famous fish stew, but once we are finished we would be happy to find a tune that has parts for flute, voice and hands alike."

Nodding at her the Dwarves began to turn back to their meal and the words of another Dwarf sitting with them, but resignedly halted their movement as Cir's voice rang out at them again.

"Oh! But my brother here still doesn't have an instrument to play. Have you any spares with you or should we rely on those of this Inn?"

[Firefoot]

“Yes, of course,” Cela replied resignedly and stiffly. Strains of obstinacy and pride urged her to disagree, but she had not the heart for it. Master Dick had a point, even if she did not wholly agree with taking in any “stray” that wandered through – like cats. Soon we’ll have a whole passel of them. But the thought lacked conviction. Also, Cela was not by nature argumentative and there was no point in protesting too much the way Dick chose to run his inn, and truly Jack was not doing much harm – not that she wouldn’t still watch him like a hawk.

Even with all of this, however, Cela may still have chosen to disagree had it not been for Primrose and Will’s timely entrance. Oh, she felt a wretched fool, not for letting them overhear but for letting herself become so stressed out and carried away over nothing.

“Have some stew,” she said abruptly, turning and putting a full bowl down in front of the innkeeper.

“What?” asked Dick, temporarily lost by this switch in subject matter.

“You haven’t eaten yet. Have some stew,” she repeated, “and mushrooms.” She piled up a plate for him and set it down. For while she would never apologize outright, this was her way of saying that she would accept his judgment, whether she agreed with it or not. Perhaps Dick would recognize it as such, or perhaps he would simply be glad that his head cook was no longer shaking her spoon at him. She smiled in amusement at this; yes, that would be just like a man.

[Noinkling]

‘Afraid not, Mistress Enpauriel Laicirith,’ Bávor said, taking a quick poll of those seated at the table. ‘No spares. Perhaps we should put off the night of entertainment for another date.’ And preferably one after we’ve gone!

‘At any rate, just let us know when you’ve gotten yourselves situated with instruments and song and such,’ Bívor added, turning from his bowl of stew to look at the female Elf. ‘What about you, Kár? Did you want to join in on the singing and the playing?’ Bívor asked, turning back to his fellow Dwarves. ‘Didn’t mean to leave you out.’

[Arry]

‘What’s up?’

Rowan’s question hung brightly, expectantly in the air. Will squirmed a little in his seat. He loved to gossip as much as any other in the Inn. But somehow the heated discussion between Mistress Cela and Master Dick seemed something that should be settled just between them, without others poking their noses into it.

‘Two things are up. First, you missed the big excitement out in the stable yard. Gable was up on the roof, helping to fix the part of shingles that I had still to do. And, well, she slipped and nearly plunged off the edge – and would have done so, except that she’d managed to nail one of her sleeves to the roof.’ He looked around the room and pointed out the man, Rhys. ‘That was the Big Folk fella that helped her down.’

‘Now, the other thing that’s up is that Prim and I are hungrier than bears in Spring. I was hoping that with all these folk in that there might be some music tonight or storytelling.’ He smiled over at Prim. ‘Made the poor lass walk all the way round to the front for her supper!’

He nodded over to where Tollers and the man were speaking. ‘Does the inn have a new worker?’

[Tevildo]

Tollers clapped Jack on the back and reassured him, "All right now. Don't worry. The Innkeeper is a good fellow, and I'm sure he'll smooth things over very quickly, Just stay here a bit, and I'll go to the kitchen and get you everything you need for serving so you won't have to face the bear in her den."

Tollers quickly slipped into the kitchen and began loading a series of stew bowls onto a long wooden tray. He had wanted to ask the Innkeeper a question, but now did not seem to be a good time. Tollers was quite adept at handling large loads and managed to stack two or three bowls in a wobbly pile to be sure that Jack had enough food available to keep his customers happy. He scooped up the tray and returned to the bar, loading a second tray down with flagons of ale.

Taking up the tray with the bowls in his right hand, and the second tray with the ale in his left, Tollers trotted over to where Jack was waiting. "Here now, take this. Plenty of fish stew here. Just pass them out to the guests who are waiting. This should keep you busy for a while. Meanwhile, I'll be passing out the drinks."

[Forest Elf]

“Well, see you round.” Gable said to Rhys. Then walked to the stables. She opened the stable door to the injured pony’s stall and checked on her. The water wasn’t too low, and there was plenty of fresh hay, or sort of fresh, and nothing needed taking care of.

Gable also checked on the other horses’ stalls, food and water. They all looked fine. Gable headed to the Inn, figuring that she’d search for the owner again, headed to her room. She changed into her boy clothes again and headed out to the stables.

[Envinyatar]

Rhys and his sister stood in the entryway with Granny Greenhill. All three were looking about the room. In search of a table, he thought. Hithadan stood and waved at Rhys as he caught his eye, nodding his head down to his own table.

From a nearby table he obtained an additional chair. And noting one of the servers nearby, he motioned him over.

[Folwren]

To tell the truth, Dick was confused and surprised by Cela’s sudden and abrupt softening and offering of food. That certainly didn’t stop him from eating, though. After thanking Cela warmly, he gratefully ate, quickly, though not hastily, as he enjoyed each bite. For a time, a silence ruled in the kitchen. Cela moved quietly about the stove. When the bowl was half empty and most of the mushrooms eaten, Dick finally looked up again.

She hadn’t taken up the argument again, he told himself as he turned his thoughts back to their short disagreement. Her very slight agreement – that ‘Yes, of course’ – hadn’t sounded very much like a real agreement, nor at all like a surrender. In fact, it had sounded almost entirely like a reply forced out of the necessity to be obedient to his last request. He didn't like that.

“If you really don’t like him that much, then he doesn’t have to stay,” Dick said abruptly. “We can’t do without you, Cela, that’s for sure, and I don’t like it when anyone here is unhappy. I don’t want to turn him off, though, empty handed. Could you put up with him, do you think, for at least a little while? Maybe he’ll get tired of us and leave of his own will. I’m only asking for a few days – maybe a week – and after that, we can talk about it again.”

[Firefoot]

Cela shook her head exasperatedly. Where did he get his ideas? "I most certainly shan't be leaving the Perch over something like this," she said, "and if this is some ill-thought-out attempt to get rid of me, well, you might as well say so out loud." Dick started to protest that this was not at all the case, but Cela overrode him. "And as for the rest, I already agreed, didn't I?"

Dick still did not look wholly convinced; Cela supposed she would have to speak a little plainer. "Listen," she said. "I told you what I thought, and after that it's up to you to run your inn as you see fit. The question at hand is not whether I will like him or appreciate him or go easy on him; it is whether I will tolerate him in my kitchen, and I have told you yes. If you would like me to change my mind, feel free to keep arguing the point."

As for playing nicely, Cela would not. She would draw the line short of terrorizing the man, but it might even be rather fun to play with his head a bit. Making up for the broken plates - yes, that was right.

[piosenniel]

‘Well, look. It’s Hitha--,’ Rhys began, a smile on his face as he waved back to the Ranger. But before he could finish his sentence, his sister, he noted, was already on her way toward the proffered table, Granny in tow. He snorted as he shook his head, and stepped lively to keep up with the two females.

The two gentlemen seated the ladies first. Rhys pulling out the chair for Granny while Hithadan saw to Tanni. He took in the smile and the thank-you his sister offered the Ranger, noticing, or so he thought, that her eyes lingered on his face a little too long and too readily. And did his eyes betray him, or did the man’s hand linger overlong on the back of her chair, he wondered. He seemed courteous enough, the Ranger did, but Rhys’ father had charged him with the care of his sister, and there were certain warning bells that seemed to jangling on the outskirts of his awareness.

He looked at Tanni, who had leaned across the table to speak with Granny. And Hithadan, he noted, had sat down and was now speaking to a server who had drawn near. What momentary alarm he’d felt seemed quieted now, but nonetheless he would speak with Tanni when they were alone. And for now, he would be vigilant.

‘So, what is it that the good cook has made for us this evening?’ Rhys heard Tanni say as she turned to the server.....

[Envinyatar]

Jack set his tray down on the corner of the table; proud that he had not spilled a drop of the stew on the way there. He handed out the tableware, all the while telling the two men, the lady, and the elder Hobbit that it was fresh trout stew for the evening fare. Along with some nice crispy fried mushrooms. He put a basket of thick sliced bread on the table along with a pot of sweet cream butter and another of honey.

‘Best honey there is in these parts,’ he said. ‘Apple blossom this one, from Granny Greenhill’s bees, or so I’m told.’ He wondered a bit as the lady grinned at the Elder Hobbit.

He handed round a bowl of stew to each one, and a plate of mushrooms for all to share; then, asked what it was they’d like to drink. Repeating each one’s order, he tucked them firmly away in his memory and went off to the bar to fetch them.

Once done, he picked up his tray from the bar and continued to make his way....his careful way... to where other hungry guests were waiting.

[Undómë]

Rowan looked over at Jack, watching as he picked up the tray Tollers had brought out to him. For a moment, her heart leapt into her throat as the bowls and baskets of bread shifted and clinked a bit. Mistress Cela would have his head if he dropped them!

And wouldn’t that solve our problem… she thought to herself. In her mind’s eye she could just see the doughty cook running the man off the grounds her big cooking spoon waving menacingly in the air. Rowan swallowed a smile and turned back to Will and Prim.

‘You’re right it seems. Looks as if the Perch has taken on another server.’ She pushed back her curls and straightened her apron with a few tugs here and there. ‘Looks like I’d better hop to it if I’m to keep my job. Otherwise I might get replaced by the next stray as comes along.’ She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing, as she gave Jack’s novice efforts a quick glance.

‘So, what can I bring you two? Stew, mushrooms, bread…?’ Her mouth curved up in a mischievous bow. ‘Two glasses of the chilled, ‘special’ cider that’s kept in the cellar, perhaps? Guaranteed to ease up any aches or pains.’

[Folwren]

"Listen," Cela told Dick. "I told you what I thought, and after that it's up to you to run your inn as you see fit. The question at hand is not whether I will like him or appreciate him or go easy on him; it is whether I will tolerate him in my kitchen, and I have told you yes. If you would like me to change my mind, feel free to keep arguing the point."

“Oh! Certainly not! I won’t argue the point if you have nothing further to say. I know you well enough not to expect to gain an inch of ground.” Dick nodded knowingly and turned back to his food. In another couple minutes he was finished. He stood up and took the dishes to the sink. “Thank you, Cela,” Dick said, turning to her one last time. “I have hopes the he’ll do alright here, so long as you don’t scare him off.”

She didn’t answer as she took his dishes and rinsed them briskly. Dick shrugged his shoulders and decided to take it at that and not ask for any more. He straightened his vest, glanced once more at the little dots that the stew-broth had made on it, and went out into the common room to see how things went.

He spotted Jack at once, making his way between the tables with a laden tray on his hands. He seemed to be doing well and by the look on his face, he may have forgotten Cela.

“Hollo, Tollers!” Dick called, half raising his voice as the young server passed nearby. Tollers turned at once and hurried over to him. “You seem to have taken a liking to this Jack fellow – taken him fishing and what not. Will you keep your eye on him for me? No, no, not because I mistrust him,” Dick said quickly as a shocked look leaped up into Tollers’ face. “Keep him out of the kitchen for a little while. You take the dishes in and make sure he doesn’t pile that tray too high.”

[Glirdan]

"What about you, Kár? Did you want to join in on the singing and the playing?" Bívor asked, turning back to his fellow Dwarves. "Didn’t mean to leave you out."

"Hmmm, I'm not sure. I may. But I forgot my own flute back home, hoping to listen to others music. But if you're in need, I'd be glad to lend a hand," Kár said, smiling up at the Elf. "Just tell me what you would like me to do, and I will."

[Rose]

Penstemon’s ears were quite sharp for a woman of her ripened age. And, too, her curiosity had not dimmed with the passing years. While the Big folk passed a few pleasantries, her attention had drifted from her food and drink to the table where the Dwarves sat, and standing near them, Elves.

Three of the Dwarves did not seem all that pleased to be speaking with the nearest of the Fair Folk. But the fourth Dwarf, who did not bear a family sort of resemblance to the others, seemed unphased by the Elf. And in fact was smiling up into the fellow’s face as he spoke.

‘Oh what a treat!’ she said aloud, clapping her hands together. ‘The Dwarves and the Elves,’ she hurriedly explained, her hands fluttering toward the group she’d spied. ‘I believe there will be music tonight.’ Her eyes gleamed as she informed the table of what she’d overheard.

‘Haven’t danced in a month of Sterdays! I hope they play some tunes to set the old feet tapping!’ She grinned widely at Rhys and Tanni. 'Didn't you say you played the fiddle. And you sang?'

[Lilly]

Taffy pushed his spoon about in his bowl; moving the chunks of fish from one side to the other. Stews, and especially fish stews, were not his favorite sort of food. He looked up to see if his mother or father were watching. They were not, and so he reached for another chunk of bread, slathering it with butter and honey.

He felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Seren, who’d sidled up next to him, wanting another piece of honey bread herself.

‘I don’t like it either,’ she whispered, climbing up on his chair to kneel beside him. She took the spoon from him and made a few passes in the rapidly cooling stew. ‘Glop!’ she mouthed at him, making a face at the gooey mess that rolled off the spoon she held and plopped onto the surface the bowl’s contents. She shuddered a little and wrinkled her nose. ‘Doesn’t it look like somebody already ate it and then upchucked it?’ She pinched her nose shut as if the smell disgusted her.

Taffy’s giggle was cut short as he heard his and his sister’s name called. He looked up guiltily and there was his mother giving him her steely eyed stare. ‘Don’t be rude, you two! Just push your bowls away from you if you’re done.’ Taffy could see his father shaking his head at him.

‘No dessert for you two!’ his mother went on. ‘Now get down from the table and get your hands and faces cleaned up. And no more remarks about the good food that the cook worked hard to make for you.’

Taffy tried to look contrite as he helped his sister down from the chair. Taking Seren’s hand, he hurried her back to their room. A few quick swipes with a washcloth to her face and likewise to both their hands and he declared it good enough.

‘Hey, let’s go see if that storyteller Dwarf is done eating,’ Taffy said as they left the room. He held Seren back for a moment before they entered the common room; making sure his parents’ attention was elsewhere. The two inched around the edge of the room, making for the Dwarves’ table . . .

[Tevildo]

By the middle of the supper hour, Tolers had lost all count of the number of bowls of fish stew and flagons of ale that he'd served up to the customers of the Golden Perch. He felt that his dedicated service in the common room definitely made up for any small shortcomings earlier in the day. But no matter how hard he worked, Tollers could not get his mind off the gold coin with the hammer and anvil tucked inside his vest pocket.

Still, Tollers was careful to pay attention to his duties and, with a wide grin plastered on his face, responded promptly when Dick spoke to him. "Oh, yes, sir. That's exactly what I was trying to do......to keep Jack out of the kitchen. You see, it's as much for his own good as for Cela. Jack is a wee bit afraid of Cela's bite, and he'd rather not step inside her den. For one of the Big Folk, he's got a good head on his shoulders, I'd say, and knows what's best for his health."

Remembering the dishes that he'd stacked up halfway to the ceiling on Jack's tray, Tollers silently promised that he'd be more careful in the future. He did not say anything to Dick about that part. Thank goodness, Jack had managed to keep all the bowls from toppling over onto his customers....at least so far.

Fishing into his vest pocket, Tollers fingered the silver shilling that Skirvir had given him in payment for the ale. He could not keep himself from checking on it every five minutes. Earlier that night, he had deposited twelve pence in the Inn's money box from his own leather pouch so he could keep the silver shilling for himself. Holding the golden coin in one palm and the silver shilling in the other, Tollers had noticed that, although the pictures on the coins were not an exact match, they were very, very close. Looking at the two hammers, he had almost squealed in delight.

It was then that a bold plan had begun to form in Tollers' mind. He must be extremely careful. He mustn't tell the Dwarf or anyone else where he'd found the coin. But perhaps if he spun an imaginative tale he could get more information out of Skirvir or one of his fellow Dwarves so that he could learn what this thing was. It would have to be a wild and wooly tale with no connection to the Inn, the Stock Brook, or even the Shire. And he would need to speak with the Dwarf in private, not here in the middle of a crowded room with so many nosey hobbits milling about who loved to pry into their neighbors' business.

The first place to start was to find out what room the Dwarves would be occupying in the Inn. Tollers' eyes darted back to Master Dick. Trying to sound as casual as possible, he queried, "Those nice Dwarves, especially the one named Skirvir....you wouldn't happen to know what room they have for tonight?"

[Volo]

Colren

Tired of running from his own memories, a tall ragged man walked to the center of Stock...

It is getting dark, I think they lost me. Colren walked slowly repeating "I-am-not-mad", a word for each step he took. For a week, I have had no time to rest. Why did they have to come, I told them, It's over... Ah, an inn! He walked towards the inn, but then stopped. They'll learn, the same way I did. By pain. Colren looked into the nothing and stood there before the inn as if everything froze. That's that, I must rest. Those fools aren't here now, I'm safe, I'm safe... I'm safe. I am safe. He grinned as a man, who lost all. "Dead", Colren started muttering: "All, dead. Dead!"
Then he notised the cold wind and came back to sense.

Colren opened the inn door and steadily walked to the empty counter avoiding the other people there, still muttering "I-am-not-mad". Once he was in front of the counter, he lifted his head and looked straight, as if through the wall; put a golden coin he held in his hand on the table; loudly said "Ale" and fainted on the floor...

[Tevildo]

Tollers stood patiently waiting for an answer from Dick. But then something unexpected happened that momentarily swept away his question about the Dwarves. The hobbit's eyes widened with surprise as he saw the strange man faint, collapsing on the floor in an ungainly heap.

"Oh, dear, dear." Tollers went red in the face and tugged insistently on Dick's sleeve, turning him around so he could see what had happened.

Running over to the prostrate figure, Tollers tried to lift up the man's shoulders and called out to whoever was nearby. "Water. Forget the ale. This man needs some water! And is there a healer in the house?"

Tollers privately reflected that he had never seen so many of the Inn's guests and staff meet with various mishaps in such a short space of time. He sincerely hoped that he would not be next on the list.

[Forest Elf]

Gable walked out to the stables, when she realized that she left her bow and arrows at her room. She sighed and walked back into the Inn, where Tollers was with a strange man. He shouted suddenly, “Water. Forget the ale. This man needs some water! And is there a healer in the house?"

“I can get some water, and then go and find the healer, again.” Gable said, striding off to the kitchen. She got a mug and filled it with cool water, and gave Tollers the water. “There, now I can go and find the healer.” Gable said and walked out the door. She ran over to Doc Puddifoot’s.

She knocked on the door. “Just a minute! Don’t rush!” He hollered at the door. A couple of seconds later he opened the door and said, “Again? What’s the trouble this time?”

“Well, there’s a man at the Inn who collapsed, well, fainted. And Tollers asked for a healer, and I came to tell you.” Gable replied.

He closed the door and started running as fast as his hobbit legs would carry him. Gable followed at an easy stride, keeping up with the hobbit easily. Doc Puddifoot walked over the unconscious man.

Gable thought she’d check the kitchens, now that he’ll be taken care of. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked from the doorway.